A Marked Hero
by FireWarriorJedi
Summary: What if Lily's sacrifice was more powerful than anyone expected? What if the Greek Gods were more than just myths? What if Harry Potter was sent to Camp Half-Blood instead of the Dursleys? What will happen when the wizarding world and ancient mythology collide?
1. Sacrifice

The bright moon was unforgiving as it strode across the sky, its harsh light failing to illuminate the dark figure. He could feel the spirits all around him, as the restless souls awakened by All Hallow's Eve unearthly powers augmented the Prince of the Underworld's strength. But this power was nothing compared to the ecstasy he would experience from his father's pleasure with him for destroying his father's brother's precious daughter's family. With this energy available for him to absorb freely, the entire Potter lineage would be extinguished in a single strike. He, the Dark Lord, would reign unopposed. His hungry grin of anticipation was the only thing visible from underneath his billowing shadow as he slithered through the town.

A warm glow was shining through the windows, but the Dark Lord didn't need the light to see James playing with the baby that was foretold to destroy him. Their life energy called out to him, bright and vibrant, the fragrance so intense that he could taste it upon his forked tongue. The baby cooed and tried to grasp the brightly colored smoke James had summoned, and he smiled in return, blissfully unaware of the imminent danger. As Voldemort watched, Lily caressed James, both of them smiling down at the baby, and kissed him on the cheek. To see the filthy mudblood married to that wizard of ancient lineage made his blood boil. For this atrocity they must all be extinguished, no matter what his servant had requested.

The door disintegrated at his touch as he strode into their lives, destroying what they had believed to be a perfect fall evening. The brave Gryffindor that he was, James grabbed his wand from the table and rushed toward the Dark Lord, yelling

"Run Lily, take Harry! I love-", but he never got a chance to finish. As the flash of deadly green lit the stairwell, he could see the foolish woman fleeing to the upper floors. He smirked, there was nowhere to run for them. They had even made his job more pleasant, prey was so much fun to kill when cornered and desperate.

Her flimsy barricade didn't stand a chance as he stood in the doorway of their nursery. He thought it fitting that the child would exit the world in the very same room that had seen it enter. A twisted sort of irony, but although the Dark Lord was many things, sane was not among them.

"Step aside foolish woman, I want you to see the light leave your son's eyes before I kill you" he hissed, baring his fangs and raising his wand. Her pleading filled him with sick delight.

"Please not Harry, kill me, leave Harry, please take me" she begged, her eyes teary, motions frantic. Unfortunate; he would have liked to make her watch him kill the baby in her final moments, but who was he to refuse her last wish? The green light that had ended so many others illuminated the nursery, and the Dark Lord stepped over her still body toward the baby in the crib. After all those years of planning and gathering power, the only thing that stood between him and the ultimate domination of the magical world was not even a year old. He couldn't help but feel confident as he prepared to finish the deed. With practiced ease he leveled his wand at the infant, chanted the final words, and the green light lit up the nursery once again.

And the Dark Lord was no longer alive.

-oO0o0Oo-

Dumbledore stood in the wreckage of the Potter's house and only felt the smallest twinge of remorse for the fallen family members. The destruction of two of his most useful soldiers was not his biggest problem now. The only thing that really mattered was the boy was still alive. If he truly was the one to defeat the Dark Lord, then he couldn't let a power like that be used for someone else's purposes. The boy would go to Hogwarts, he would make sure of that, but he couldn't take care of a baby for eleven years. In addition, he didn't trust anyone enough in the magical world to take care of his biggest weapon against the Dark Lord for him. He remembered that he had heard of someone on his travels around the globe in New York who ran a camp for children. That was perfect, from what he knew, it was not magical, and far away from Britain. No one would have any influence on Potter until Dumbledore swooped in to save him from the muggles, and the boy would be under his complete control. He smiled, picked up the infant, turned on his heel, and Apparated away into the night.

-oO0o0Oo-

Chiron stood alone on the shore of Long Island and watched the sun set over the waves. Sometimes he enjoyed to have a little respite from fighting the same monsters every hundred years and training heroes who couldn't live as long as he could. To him, there was nothing more soothing than watching the same sun set the same way from the same shore all by himself. What wasn't soothing was when a man just appeared from nowhere past borders supposedly unbreakable. He interrogated the intruder,

"Who are you? What do you want?" while drawing his bow in readiness and nocking an arrow. The stranger didn't seem to be armed, and appeared to be over a hundred years old. But anyone who appear and disappear at will, and bypass barriers constructed by the gods, was undoubtedly powerful, and powerful usually meant dangerous.

Dumbledore was surprised when he was greeted by a centaur. He knew this was the right place, and the man did look like the one he had intended to leave Harry with, at least from the waist up. He didn't have time to find another place to leave Harry; the wizarding world would need him to help them sort out the crisis. In addition, if this centaur had contacts in Britain, he might know of him and of Harry, and would do just the things that Dumbledore want to happen. If that was the case, he needed to leave quickly before he was recognized. He answered

"I've brought a camper", and placed the baby on the ground.

Whatever Chiron had expected the stranger to do, this was most definitely not it. He strode forward, knelt, and picked up the baby. But when he looked up to ask the stranger why he had brought the baby here, the man was gone. He stood, and noticed an open wound on the forehead of the baby, in the shape of the lightning bolt. That settled any doubts he had about taking in the child the stranger had just left. This baby needed treatment and care. It looked like Camp Half-Blood had just gotten a new camper.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

For story purposes Harry is born in 1994, Annabeth and Percy in 1999. Harry will still be classmates with the same people, I have just shifted the timeline up a bit. This is my first time writing a fanfiction, so I hope you enjoy!


	2. Recuperation

Death was no stranger to the Dark Lord. It was his father's kingdom after all. Yet this was the first time he had visited the Underworld without a body. Seething with anger, he vowed to seek out his nearest Horcrux and return to physical form as soon as possible. It was unacceptable that he was left as only a spirit incapable of performing magic by a mere child! He needed to prepare for his next encounter with Harry Potter. Things had not gone according to plan, and the Dark Lord wanted revenge. Nothing escaped the Prince of the Underworld's grasp for long. Harry Potter would soon take a permanent visit to the Underworld if the Dark Lord had anything to say about it.

-oO0o0Oo-

They hesitated in giving the child any nectar, as they didn't know his parentage, and no one had been given the food of the gods at such a young age. A child of Athena had pointed out that the barrier repelled any mortals, and since the baby showed no signs of stress from being inside the camp, they could assume that he was powerful enough to ingest the nectar. As for his age, nectar was meant to heal, and mortal methods of aid had failed to affect the horrific wound upon his head, so the least they could do was try. With reluctance, and a small amount of anticipation, Chiron decided to administer the nectar himself, with Dionysus close by just in case. Although Dionysus' powers were mostly to do with wine, he could make plants grow, and that was a form of healing. At the very least, a god nearby couldn't hurt.

Dionysus had been remarkably reluctant in approaching the baby until now, even more so than usual. He despised the campers, but was usually less gruff to the younger ones. Despite his rough exterior, Dionysus had a soft spot and could be kinder than anyone expected. However, he had stayed far away from Harry, muttering "It's not right" and "Is this some kind of punishment, father?" whilst pacing back and forth agitatedly. Dionysus grumbled when Chiron called him over, he didn't like to be ordered around, but he couldn't let a camper be hurt in his camp. His father would be sure to punish him for it.

Chiron held the flask of nectar above the baby, who reached out with his pudgy fingers and tried to grasp the golden liquid. Chiron couldn't help but smile as the baby let out a giggle when he tickled him under the chin.

"You ready, Dionysus?" Chiron asked to the figure standing in the corner. Dionysus looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here in this room.

"You know names have power, stop calling me that! The last thing we need is another monster breaching our defenses," Dionysus grumbled, reluctantly moving closer to the bed.

"I don't think the man was a monster. I could smell no scent of the underworld on him, only old books and lemon drops" Chiron replied "Anyways, the longer this baby has this thing on his head, the worst it will be for him. Already he looks more pale then when he first arrived." And it was true, the wound stood out more viciously now, and his grasps at the bottle were more and more feeble. "We had better administer this nectar quick, if we are to administer it at all." Dionysus muttered something under his breath, but held up no arguments. Satisfied, Chiron began to spoon the shimmering viscous liquid into the baby's mouth.

What happened next no one could explain. A sudden gust of wind filled the Big House, tugging the bottle from Chiron's hands and pouring the entire bottle of nectar into the baby's mouth, a dose that would have burned up even a fully grown demigod. With a sound like a bell, the bottle fell to the ground and shattered into a million deadly pieces, glittering like diamonds. No one noticed, all averting their heads from what they knew would occur. It wasn't the first time someone had overdosed on the nectar, and no one liked seeing anyone burn up from the inside a second time.

"Ah well," Dionysus sighed, inwardly relieved that he wouldn't have to spend time with the kid any longer. Something just seemed off about him. "At least we tried. What happened with that bottle any way?" He asked, turning to Chiron. Chiron didn't answer. He was starring, eyes wide, mouth agape, at the baby. The mark upon Harry's head was glowing, brighter and brighter until it expelled dark thing from the scar. Dionysus immediately snapped his fingers, turned the monster into a can of Diet Coke, opened it, and casually took a sip.

"What?" He asked, to the onlookers. Only then did he realized that they weren't staring at him.

The lightning mark had reappeared on Harry's palms, glowing gold, his forehead perfectly unmarred. The glow spread from his hands until it covered the rest of his body as the nectar flowed through his veins, searching for something to heal. Pausing on his eyes, the nectar corrected what would have made him short sighted in the future, and moved on. Finding no other wounds, with a flash, the glow was gone. And Harry opened his eyes, his irises, once a pure emerald green, now flecked with gold.

For a moment everyone stood in silence. Then Dionysus strode forward, and placed an index finger on the infant's head. Where his finger came in contact with the baby's forehead, the skin glowed a soft gold.

"I can feel it," he said, shocked, "The nectar, still in his blood stream, and not going away."

"He doesn't seem to have had any adverse effects" Chiron replied, checking the baby's pulse, "He must be very powerful to have survived. I suppose it should have come as no surprise, for it is the second impossible thing to have happened today in regards to him. We will have to wait and see what effects he has for having nectar in his system long term, but at this point I doubt it will be anything harmful. This baby must truly be destined for great things to be blest by the gods in this way."

Lighting flashed outside and thunder boomed, as if Zeus was agreeing with Chiron's statement, or Dionysus had summoned another goblet of wine by "accident". Dionysus really did need something stronger than a Diet Coke. In all of his thousands of years of existing, he had never seen something like this. Only Heracles could be listed as having performed greater feats as an infant, and Heracles had lead a hard and painful life. All too often, "destined for great things" meant "destined to die a painful death whilst on a difficult quest". He could only hope that for once a god's blessing did not mean this baby's early death. For all his prior misgiving's, if this baby had survived ingesting the god's food, and Zeus had not decided to smite him as punishment, this baby may be better than what he had first thought. He might even learn it's proper name for once.

-oO0o0Oo-

Sybill Trelawny stirred, awakened from her deep sleep. As she became fully awake, she felt as if the world was shifting around her, causing her to have a strong case of vertigo. Grasping the bedside table, she placed her heavy glasses on the bridge of her nose, which made the sensation a little more bearable. At least all the fuzzy edges around the objects scattered about her bedroom had gone away. This wasn't the first time she had felt this way, being a seer she was more susceptible to changes in the timeline of the universe, but she had never felt it with this much intensity. With a sigh, she placed her glasses back on the bedside table and waited for the sensation to pass, so she could return to her sleep.

She would have been unable to return to her sleep if she knew that seers, prophets, oracles, and those easily susceptible to the chaos of the universe were all over the globe feeling the exact same sensation. Dumbledore was one of those people. If you lived to be that age, you began to notice patterns in human behaviors and societies, and could, with some uncertainty, predict what happened next. There was no doubt about it, the train of the universe had diverged or even jumped off the tracks. Someone, somewhere, had decided on an entirely new path for themselves, and was dragging the rest of the universe along with it. Dumbledore picked up his book, relit the candle that had sputtered out, and continued to read. He would have abandoned his precious book in a heartbeat if he knew that that someone was an infant, with marks of lightning on his palms, with a name of Harry Potter. He would have known, with absolute certainty, that his plans for the boy were destined to fail. Alas, he would have to discover that for himself, after 11 years had come to pass.

On the other side of the ocean, a mummy long dead resting in an attic opened her mouth and spewed forth green mist with a sound of hissing snakes.

-oO0o0Oo-

Harry Potter slept soundly. He did not care what the gods had planned for him. He did not know that he had made a mess of the Fates carefully measured string. He did not realize the great dangers that lay in store for him. He simply turned over, stuck his thumb in his mouth, and continued to sleep.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan.

Another filler chapter, but we should be getting close to the action.

As for your reviews, thank you! You shall get your answers soon.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Training

The blade whipped through the air so fast and cleanly that the straw dummies didn't topple over for a second before realizing they were cut into at least twelve separate pieces. Only a few droplets of sweat fell upon the newly scattered straw. Harry Potter sheathed his celestial bronze sword and placed it back on the weapons rack. He rubbed the rough, hard skin of the callouses that had formed on his palms from many years of sparring practice, not giving the lighting shaped marks there a second glance. Chiron had told him that it was due to his ingestion of a large amount of nectar as an infant, and now he just regarded it as part of him. There were a great many things that were different than others due to the nectar, such as his greater strength, speed, and agility than other kids his age, and his nectar-enhanced healing factor. Part of him that was different than everyone else, but part of him nonetheless. He sighed, looked over the damage he had wrought with a grin, and walked out of the training pavilion to find Chiron. They needed to make new training dummies again.

-oO0o0Oo-

He had been at Camp Half-Blood ever since he could remember. Chiron had told him about the mysterious stranger who had left him here, and he couldn't help feeling resentment towards the man. Who leaves an infant with a person that doesn't even know your name and disappears before he tells you the name of the baby? The only reason they knew his name was because it was written on his baby clothes. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly lonely, he would look at his mother's handwriting and imagine being with her and the rest of his family.

While Camp Half-Blood was beautiful, and he was glad that he wasn't stuck in an orphanage somewhere, he wasn't like the rest of the campers. He didn't have a godly parent, at least one they knew about, or any amazing powers aside the ones gained due to his ingestion of nectar at an early age. The campers didn't harass him, but they didn't accept him either, except the Ares cabin, who bullied everyone. He hated being the focus of attention, so from a very young age, he would get up early, leave the Hermes' cabin, and go off on his own. In these hours of solitude, he learned how to sword fight, practice archery, learn ancient Greek, climb the lava wall, and most importantly, read. Any books he could get his hands on he would treat as if it was a precious friend, for that's what they were. When he was reading a book, he was surrounded by people who knew and accepted him, and would have his back in any fight. It was his escape from the loneliness at Camp Half-Blood, where the only person who would converse with him was Chiron, and he was usually busy leading the camp. Of course the skills he practiced were put to good use, as during the nightly games everyone wanted the Hermes' cabin on their side, so they could have Harry Potter. But after the games were over, no one wanted to be near him. It might have been because of the strange things that happened when he was scared or afraid. Once, a hellhound had managed to get past the boundaries and made as if to leap on Harry. He had shoved his hands forward for some measure of protection from the assault and the beast ended up flying back twenty feet and impaling itself on a tree branch. After that episode, Chiron forbade Harry to leave the camp, which he was fine with. Where else would he want to go? However, it didn't change the truth that in the camper's eyes, he was an asset, not a person.

-oO0o0Oo-

The grass was wet with the morning dew as he strode across the quiet camp. This was his favorite time of day, when the campers were still asleep and he could do the things he wanted. He found Chiron at the archery range, practicing. Down at the far end, it looked as if more than 6 arrows had hit exactly in the dead center, corresponding with the six missing arrows from Chiron's quiver. Exchanging nods of acknowledgement, Harry grabbed a bow and quiver, and began to shoot at the next target over. He didn't prefer archery, Chiron and the Apollo cabin crushed him, but he was still a pretty good shot.

"Done with sparring so soon?" said Chiron, drawing back his bow, "I would have thought this latest batch of dummies would have lasted a little longer than the previous ones." The arrow joined its brothers at the exact center of the target.

"It seems we may need to use sturdier materials," replied Harry, drawing back his bow, "Or perhaps moving targets? Although a sparring partner might be a better idea than to keep replacing these dummies." The arrow landed below the center dot.

"Release your bow as you release your breath, Harry," the centaur instructed while collecting his arrows, "Do not be so hasty. Relax, aim higher than your target, and let the arrow fly."

"Oh come now, why won't you spar with me?" Harry replied. He drew his bow, remembered his teacher's instructions, and released. The arrow hit the exact center with a satisfying thwack.

"Good job," Chiron remarked, watching Harry's shot, "But you are not pulling back with your full strength."

"You know as well as I do that this bow would splinter if I were to pull back fully," Harry replied, drawing his bow again, "And stop avoiding the question." The arrow buzzed down the length of the range and split the previous arrow directly down the center.

"Very good. You are improving," Chiron nodded, approvingly, "And as for your other question, I had hoped to save the answer for tomorrow, but you always are so curious. I guess I will have to find another present for your eleventh birthday."

Harry smiled up at Chiron with boyish enthusiasm. Chiron remembered when Harry was like that every day, but now such periods of happiness were few and far between. He noticed that Harry was now scowling and sighed. He wished Harry could be happy for more than a few moments.

"What is it, Harry?" Chiron asked, taking the bow from Harry and replacing the weapon back on the rack.

"You just seemed particularly bright just now," the boy replied, staring out across camp at the stirrings of the demigods, "In fact, everyone down there seems brighter than normal." Chiron shook his head. When would they ever know of the true extent of the alterations the nectar had made?

"It is possible that you are seeing their godly auras," he thought aloud, stroking his short beard, "I could ask the Hesphatus cabin to make a pair of glasses if the sensation is too unbearable? Since you already know of the gift I was intending to give you, perhaps this can serve as a replacement." Chiron looked kindly down upon the boy. He had grown up so fast, it seemed like yesterday that a mysterious old man had appeared out of nowhere and left the baby at Chiron's hooves.

"Thank you, that would be wonderful," Harry replied, shading his eyes while looking up at him. Looking down at those gold-flecked green eyes, Chiron could see the struggles behind them, and wished that the campers could be more accepting. He took the conch shell from his belt and blew it.

"Time to rejoin the others," Harry said, with no small amount of reluctance, staring down at the dinning pavilion.

"I know you don't want to be with them, but it is pancakes this morning," Chiron said, trying to hide his sadness at the boy's estrangement, "I seem to remember that they were your favorite. Besides, you will have to take your daily schooling lessons with them, no point in putting off the inevitable."

"You never forget anything, do you Chiron?" the boy replied, smiling faintly, then set off down the hill, the tension in his shoulders rising with every step. Chiron watched him go, a frown upon his face, then galloped off toward the Big House. Dionysus grew grumpy when he missed breakfast, and the last time Chiron had failed to summon him on time the god had turned a camper into a strawberry plant for the day. While the berries were delicious, he didn't want a repeat performance.

-oO0o0Oo-

Dumbledore strode into his Headmistresses' office without so much as a knock, his colorful robes swirling behind him. The Headmistress was not sitting at her desk, but Dumbledore knew where she spent her quiet hours. Unknown to her students, in one of her desk drawers a cushion was stored, and curled up while napping rested a tabby cat with particular markings around the eyes. Dumbledore resisted the temptation to scratch the cat behind the ears, and cleared his throat. The cat's eyes snapped open, focusing immediately on the Headmaster's face. It yawned and stretched, and presently Professor McGonagal was standing beside Dumbledore, wide eyed and alert. The witch brushed off her emerald green robes, straightened her hat, and sat down at her desk.

"What is it, Albus? Did my chess set decide to go roaming around the halls again?" she asked, picking up a piece of paperwork from one of the stacks on her desk and frowning at it.

"No, it is about Harry Potter," sighed Dumbledore, conjuring an armchair and taking a seat, "He hasn't received or replied to any of our letters."

"I sent them to the address you gave me," the transfiguration professor replied as she set a quill to signing her signature on the various forms, "Long Island is not short journey, it is possible the owls got lost or intercepted."

"That is true," Dumbledore replied, unwrapping a lemon drop, "Or it may be a more sinister reason. The Boy-Who-Lived is an enticing target." The stern witch looked up at Albus and frowned.

"You don't truly believe has come to harm, do you?" she said, skeptically, "You assured me that the boy would be perfectly safe living in the muggle world. In fact, I seem to remember that it was that very reason that kept me from raising Harry myself." Dumbledore had to acknowledge that McGonagal had been very cross with him for that escapade. Even though McGonagal had served him loyally for many years, he wanted his newest weapon clean of any outsider influence. That way it would be easier for him to turn Harry to his side.

"I expect not, but in any case, I am sending you to deliver the letter," he replied, "Hagrid would be out of his depth if I were to ask him to go continent hopping." McGonagal nodded her agreement.

"I will leave in the morning," she said, "Now, about Hagrid's pet beast. How are we supposed to keep the students from finding the three-headed thing? This school has a safety record to uphold."

The two old associates talked for hours before they departed ways. Harry Potter was in for the surprise of a lifetime.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan.

So Harry's story gets fleshed out a bit more before he heads off to Hogwarts, where the fun and games begin.

As for all your reviews, what better place to find answers than the best magical school in the world?

Thanks for reading!


	4. Birthday Battle

All things considered, this birthday was going better than the last several. He had a promise to spar with Chiron, Dionysus had remembered his real name, and the harpies had made his favorite dessert, treacle tart. Plus, the new glasses the Hesphatus cabin had made for him allowed him to actually look at someone without being blinded. They were sturdy, with round wire frames, and they were clear. Apparently they had used a special crystal for the lenses. All in all, it was a wonderful day. But he was Harry Potter, so of course something had to come along and ruin it.

-oO0o0Oo-

They stood in the training hall at opposite sides of the circle. The news of their planned sparring practice had spread, and soon a large crowd had gathered to watch Chiron and Harry cross swords. Harry held his sword away from his side, and sized up his opponent, trying to ignore the milling observers. Chiron had been training for thousands of years, and was as skilled with his long sword as he was with his bow. He had the height advantage, the length advantage, the skill advantage, and the strength advantage. Harry would need to come up with a strategy if he was going to be able to hold his own. Harry had reasonable strength, skill, and height, but Chiron was in a class all his own. He felt honored that Chiron had agreed to spar with him, the least he could do to repay the favor was to try to make the fight last as long as possible.

-oO0o0Oo-

Chiron's hooves clopped against the wooden floor as he studied Harry. It was never good to be over confident when entering a fight, and Harry was undoubtedly skilled, but Chiron hadn't been training heroes for decades for nothing. He knew that the boy was going to come at him with everything he had, and he would not embarrass the boy by holding back. He remembered how Harry had smiled yesterday, and was glad he was able to give the boy such happiness, even if it was only for a short while. The Hermes' cabin leader was the referee, and as she blew her whistle, the fight began.

Harry and him were about to exchange blows when the howling of a dozen hell hounds was heard. Harry turned toward the sound, tearing off his glasses.

"There's fifteen of them," Harry shouted to him over the sudden swell of noise as campers rushed to grab their weapons, "I can see their auras. There's also three things in the sky, but I don't know what they are." Unfortunately, Chiron knew exactly what was in the sky. Hades was truly angry with them if he had sent his three furies. Chiron leapt over several campers blocking his way and yelled

"Demigods, split into two groups and attack the hounds from two sides. Archers, shoot at the Furies and keep them from landing," galloping out of the doors. The demigods hefted their weapons and charged, yelling their battle cries. His four legs ate up the distance between him and the monsters, and soon the campers were left in the dust. Only Harry was left keeping pace with him, donning a helmet, his sword gleaming, glasses completely forgotten. The glaring gold-flecked green eyes were the only things visible beneath the armor, and they were focused and merciless in their glare. Chiron reflected that if those were the eyes of an enemy, that was one he would not want to face.

The hellhounds were dispersed among the cabins, one on each of the roofs, while three were surrounding the fire pit in the center. Several campers who hadn't left to watch him and Harry spar were trapped inside cabin 10, every time they tried to rush the door a fury would swoop down and lash at them with their whips of fire. He drew his bow and called to Harry, "Take out those hellhounds on the ground while I handle the furies. We need to get those campers out of there!" Without waiting for a reply, his first arrow was whizzing toward a fury who was swooping down at him, claws extended, eyes red with hate. The battle for camp had begun.

-oO0o0Oo-

Harry held his sword out in front of him and charged the hellhound on the left. Jumping up and over the enraged beast, he slashed down at the neck as the hound ran underneath. Like a crumbling sandcastle, the monster exploded into dust. One down, 14 more to go. Harry remembered the last time he had came face to face with one of these beasts, but this time he had no surprise powers to assist him. The remaining two hellhounds on the ground had split up, one leapt at him from the right, the other blocked off his escape on the left. As the beast pounced, he slid underneath and cut open the furry underside, covering himself in monster dust. Rising, he turned to face the final beast. As it charged, he stepped to the left and plunged his sword hilt deep into its side and the third hellhound returned to the underworld. He heard a snarl from above him and looked up at the sound. During the fight he had gotten closer to one of cabins than he had realized and now directly above him perched another hellhound. At that moment, the rest of the hellhounds on the roofs of the cabins jumped down from their posts and began to advance on Harry.

The rest of the campers picked that moment to arrive. Even the strongest of monsters would have trouble holding their ground against an entire camp full of battle hungry demigods. Two of the furies were quickly felled by the archer's arrows, already having been dealt severe damage by Chiron's onslaught. Forming a semicircle around the Aphrodite's cabin's doors, Harry stood shoulder to shoulder with his comrades from cabin 12 and defended the escaping campers. As the hellhounds tried to attack their fleeing captives, the rest of the camp attacked from behind, wading into the surprised beasts' ranks. As Harry finished dispatching a particularly stubborn hound, he noticed that a young undetermined camper was carefully making their way out of the Hermes' cabin. Apparently there were more campers stuck in their cabins than they had originally realized. But he wasn't the only one who noticed the escaping camper. As he watched, the final fury swooped down and grabbed the camper, dragging them skyward.

Harry didn't hesitate. Out of all the cabins, Hermes' had been the nicest to him. They let him pursue his own interests, they didn't steal his stuff, and right now they were next to him, facing down the enemy. He was not about to let one of his comrades be sent to the underworld prematurely. Sprinting toward the monster he leapt into the air. He rose through the air, higher and higher, until he overtook the fury 20ft above the ground. With one stroke, he severed the head from the body, and as the dust surrounded them, grabbed the camper from its disintegrating claws. Seeing the ground so far away, he placed himself between the camper and the ground as they fell back down. While momentarily surprised at how far he had jumped, he had other things to worry about than undiscovered powers. He should be able to survive the fall, with his healing factor, but he could only hope that his body would be enough of a cushion for the camper to sustain minimal injuries. Harry closed his eyes, bracing for the impact he knew would come.

The impact came much sooner than he had expected, and considerably gentler. When he opened his eyes he realized that he and the camper were sitting astride a white pegasus. Harry smiled in relief, and expertly guided them to the ground. Horses usually hated him, but the pegasi were always happy to see him, this one especially. Sometimes he would take her on early morning flights around the camp if the weather wasn't too cold. But this was no time for reminiscing. As they flew, he realized that the camper had deep gashes on their shoulders and was rapidly losing blood. He urged his steed forward with renewed energy, this camper needed medical treatment, fast. As they sped toward the ground, Harry could only hope that they weren't too late. They were about to touch down when a chorus of howls sounded out from the woods. Passing the wounded camper to a nearby medic, Harry turned and saw at least 20 more hellhounds stalking out from between the cabins. It seemed that Hades had sent reinforcements.

As he watched the herd of beasts advance on the campers, Harry's body trembled with rage. Who were they to threaten his home and his adopted family? Everyone was tired from the previous onslaught; they would be hard pressed to defend against this new force. With the flood of emotions coursing through him, Harry's palms began to tingle and the lightning marks began to glow. Gripped by a sudden surge of understanding, Harry grasped his sword's hilt with both hands, leveled the point at the oncoming beasts, and released the energy swirling inside him at the foes. Lighting discharged from his palms, crackled down the length of his sword, and arced from the point to each monster, frying the entire horde of beasts in a deadly wave of electricity.

-oO0o0Oo-

McGonagall stood at the edge of a beach, mouth agape, as she watched the ferocious battle come to a close. She had thought that Dumbledore had left Harry with muggles, but one warrior had clearly summoned lighting, wandlessly and wordlessly as well, and had jumped at least 20ft in the air. She wondered if she had come to the right place, but she reaffixed her face into her normal stern expression and strode toward the battlefield in the hopes of speaking with someone in charge. As she approached the group, several people took notice of her and pointed their various assortment of weapons at her. With a start, she realized that most of the group looked to be in their young teens, and the young warrior they were surrounding was collapsed on the ground. She started to try to move pass the people blocking her way, but before she could make any progress, a voice called out to her.

"Halt! Who are you, and how did you get here?" the voice came from above and behind her, and when she turned around, drawing her wand, she realized it was a majestic white centaur who was addressing her. Overcoming her momentary feeling of surprise, she drew herself up to her full height and responded.

"My name is Professor McGonagall, Teacher of Transfiguration and Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I came here in the hopes of delivering Harry Potter's acceptance letter in person, as the owls we have sent have not returned. Who might you be and why are you interested?"

-oO0o0Oo-

Chiron thought the day's quota of surprises had been filled when no less 35 hellhounds and 3 furies had somehow made it past the barriers and attacked the camp. When Harry had suddenly displayed amazing powers, he only assumed he had miscalculated. But now, when a mysterious woman appeared wearing clothes he had only seen once before and talked of things he had never heard of, he resigned himself to dealing with any number of surprises, as clearly things were not about to get more ordinary.

"My name is Chiron, Trainer of Heroes, Son of Kronos, and Activities Director at Camp Half-Blood. You have just passed borders assumed to be impenetrable and are inquiring about one of my campers. Harry Potter has been with us since 11 years ago, when a strange man appeared, left him here, and then disappeared. Since then, Harry has grown up here, and we have no knowledge of Hogwarts or any acceptance letter. He has trained and studied to be the best he can be, and was intent on remaining here for the remainder of his studies. He, at this moment, is passed out from his efforts, but should regain consciousness shortly. If you do not trust me, perhaps it would be better to address him yourself," he responded, gesturing for the campers to lower their weapons.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

I had hoped to end on McGonagall taking Harry to Britain but the chapter was getting too long.

Quick Poll: Would you like me to upload every weekend or sporadically like I am now?

Thanks for your reviews!


	5. Departure From Gate McGonagall

Harry opened his eyes to an unfamiliar face standing over him. Quickly looking over his immediate surroundings, he realized that he was in no immediate danger and relaxed. While the womanly face above him was fixed in a stern frown, and her aura was blinding, she didn't appear to be intent on harming him. In fact, it looked like she was worried about him. He tried to sit up, but immediately collapsed back on the ground, shaking. He felt completely exhausted, as if he had just run a marathon carrying a hundred-pound backpack at a full out sprint. The woman spoke,

"Easy, Mr. Potter. You have completely exhausted your magical reservoir, and it will take some time to recuperate." The woman appeared to be holding a short stick, and to be over 60 years old. She spoke with a British accent, wore dark green robes and a witch's hat, and she wasn't visibly armed with a weapon. However, Harry could sense a capability and power about her, as if she had encountered many obstacles and overcome every one. He had no idea where she had come from, why she knew his name, or why he had "exhausted his magical reservoir", what ever that meant. He had a distinct feeling that this was not someone to mess with, but he didn't like to left in the dark. Finding his sword nearby, he used it to help him ease into a standing position. He was tall enough to look the woman in the eyes, who looked shocked to see him standing. It was time for him to get some answers to his questions.

-oO0o0Oo-

McGonagall could not believe that the warrior standing in front of her was Harry Potter. Although he did wear glasses, have his mother's green eyes and his father's messy hair, the similarities ended there. If she hadn't known that he was born on July 31st, 1994, she would have assumed he would have been a third year, he was tall, strong, and carried himself with a maturity that wasn't present in other kids his age. He had summoned lighting, accidently or not, and had fought expertly with a sword. In addition, he didn't have the scar that Albus had said he would, instead, there were lightning marks on his plams, the same color gold as the flecks in his eyes. And he was able to stand up mere moments after a complete drainage of energy that would put an adult wizard into a coma for at least a week. Clearly, Harry Potter was not what she or Albus had expected, and that was probably for the better. When Albus tried to meddle with things, someone usually got hurt. She was pulled out of her reminiscing by a question.

"How do you know my name?" the boy was wary, never taking his eyes off her, and already she could see that he could stand without completely resting his weight on his sword. She wondered at his remarkable recovery time. What had happened to Harry Potter after that fateful night 11 years ago? Was this the power that the Dark Lord knew not? She answered,

"I am Professor McGonagall, I am the Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the school where your parents studied."

"You know my parents?" Harry said, a mixture of hope, curiosity, and suspicion coloring his voice.

"I taught them when they were at school, and later, during the war, I would count myself as one of their friends. We were all members of the Order of the Phoenix, and it was a dismal time after they perished," she said, her voice kind and tinged with sadness.

"They are dead? Then who dropped me off here? And why did you not take me in if you knew them so well?" he asked. She could see in his face a long held hope being dashed apart.

"Do you know nothing of your background?" she asked, surprised.

"No. I was dropped off as a toddler by a strange man who left without saying a word. The only way we know my name was because it was written on my baby clothes," he said. His sadness was now turning into anger. McGonagall resolved to give Albus a good tongue lashing for not telling Harry's caregivers any information when she returned to Hogwarts. She sighed,

"You truly know nothing? I suppose I will have to start from the beginning, then. There may be news that you don't want to here, so be prepared." She conjured a pair of chairs, and Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise before he sat down and began to clean his sword. She settled down, and began. "It usually takes some time for people to accept this, but I will be blunt. You are a wizard, and are in fact a descendant from a long line of witches and wizards. Your father, James, and mother, Lily, were two of the most talented witches and wizards of their age, and it would be no surprise if you inherited their same level of skill. However, not all wizards are good, and one wizard went dark and began calling himself Lord Voldemort. He believed that muggles, non-magical people, and those wizards and witches of muggle descent were unworthy and began to kill them off. He gathered followers, called Death Eaters, and tried to take over Britain. Your mother and father opposed him, along with other members of the Order of the Phoenix. Eventually, Voldemort came to your house and killed your mother and father before trying to kill you. Now the spell he used, no one has ever survived, except you. In trying to kill you he destroyed himself and most of your house. Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, found you in the wreckage and brought you here to keep you safe. Why he left without telling you all this is beyond me, but he does have his quirks. I am here because you have been accepted at Hogwarts, and you have yet to reply if you wished to attend."

-oO0o0Oo-

The clearing was silent. All the campers had left, to get their wounds treated at the infirmary or to engage in their favorite activities. Harry sat, in a chair that had appeared out of thin air, and digested the information he had just been given. All his life he had believed that he had some connection to the Greek gods, and now to be told that he was of an entirely different group, maybe even species, was a shock. He had always hoped that one day a god would claim him, but now he was revealed as the outsider the campers all thought he was. Coupled with the fact that his parents were dead and his remaining family nowhere to be found, Harry reflected that this day had started out so well, only to end terribly. He was startled when McGonagall laid a hand on his shoulder. Her face was kind, as if she knew what he was going through.

"When I was a young girl, my mother told my father she was a witch, and although they both loved each other, their trust between them was broken. Because we lived in a muggle village, my siblings and I had to hide our magic, so when I received my Hogwarts letter, I didn't know what to think. My mother insisted I go, and there I found an entire world where I was accepted as who I was. That's why I became a teacher at Hogwarts, so that I could share that world with people like you." Her voice was soft, and Harry could tell that she was being sincere. "If you like, I can show you that world before you make your decision to attend. I'm sure Dumbledore could be persuaded to make an exception from the normal procedure, considering your situation." She held out a parchment envelope to Harry, with green writing on the front and a red wax seal with a lion, eagle, badger, and snake adorning the back. Fingers trembling, he grasped the envelope and read the letter.

-oO0o0Oo-

McGonagall watched as a new hope dawned in Harry's eyes while he read the words that could change his life. She knew that Harry had faced challenges in his life, and Hogwarts would still have challenges, but he would also have a chance to make friends and be accepted for who he was. As the gold-flecked looked up at her, she could see the glistening of unshed tears. To have your hopes dashed and then an entire new world revealed to you in the space of a few moments would have been hard on anyone, and she was reminded that he was not as old as he appeared. He turned away, and when he addressed her, he seemed to have regained his composure and a new inner strength.

"That won't be necessary," he said, holding up the letter, "I accept."

-oO0o0Oo-

Harry stood on the Long Island beach and the edge of one world, and looked out, as if he could see the new world that awaited him. He heard a familiar clip-clop of hooves on the sand and turned to find Chiron staring out at the ocean beside him.

"This is where I first saw you, you know," he said, turning toward Harry, "It seems only fitting that I will be seeing you off from the same place."

"I'll come back every summer," Harry said, "Professor McGonagall just thought it would be easier if I stayed in Britain for the rest of the summer instead of traveling internationally four times in one month."

"It is a precious few who return from their journeys, whether they find glory or defeat," Chiron said, smiling sadly, "But then again, you never were ordinary." Harry didn't know how to respond, and so they stood in silence as the sun set over the horizon. As the sky refracted the sun's rays, Harry voiced what had been bothering him ever since Professor McGonagall had arrived.

"Chiron, Professor McGonagall believes we are ordinary mortals," Harry said, "Do I reveal the truth to her?"

"No two people in this world are alike, Harry," Chiron said, "I believe that McGonagall should be allowed to know, but some others you meet will take your secrets and hold them against you. Be sparring with who you tell, as the more people who know, the less safe you, and all of us, are. But if you find someone who you believe to be trustworthy, don't be afraid to open up. The last thing I want for you is to be lonely in two worlds."

"Wise advice, Mr. Chiron," McGonagall said, walking up beside them, "You would do well to remember his words, Mr. Potter. Are you ready to depart?" Both Chiron and Harry were wondering how they had not noticed her approach.

"In a moment," Harry said, hefting his backpack and adjusting his glasses. His possessions were few to begin with, and he owned few items that he wanted to carry with him on an intercontinental journey. Packing had taken no time at all, and now all that was left was to say goodbye to his mentor and only friend at Camp Half-Blood.

"A good hero is never without his weapons," Chiron said, handing him Harry's favorite sword, bow, and arrows, "Although you will be dealing with forces I have yet to encounter, I find that few are prepared to deal with a capable swordsman or archer. I asked the Hesphatus Cabin to modify the bow to your capabilities, and the sword will be able to do damage to both monsters and mortals. I'd hate to see such hard work go to waste." Harry attached the sword to his belt and slung the bow and quiver over his shoulder, his heart swelling with emotion.

"Thank you, Chiron," Harry said, remembering all the things his mentor had supported him with, "For everything."

"Remember your triumphs and overcome your failures," Chiron said, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder, "I'm sure you will do me proud, and that is all I can ask for." He turned to Professor McGonagall, "Thank you for giving Harry this opportunity, and I hope that we will be able to have a longer conversation in the future."

"You are most certainly welcome," McGonagall replied, "I'm sure that we will both have interesting stories to share."

"Indeed," Chiron said, "Now Harry, your adventure awaits."

"Hold tight to your things, Mr. Potter, and try not to move too much," McGonagall said, moving to stand beside him. Before Harry had time to wonder how they would be getting to Britain, and what she meant by that, McGonagall placed her hand on his shoulder, turned on her heel, and Long Island vanished in a blur of color.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

Next stop, Britain!

In response to your reviews, I will try to update at least every weekend and one time during the week, but that may be delayed if I feel that my writing is not up to my standards.

Thanks for reading!


	6. Questions Answered

Harry decided that whatever method of transportation he just engaged in, he would never do it again. His organs felt like they had been turned inside out and crushed simultaneously. Groaning, he struggled to his feet and found himself standing in front of a cottage in a small mountain village. The cottage was weathered, mossy stone, and looked as if it had not been occupied for a good while, yet it had a homely, welcoming feel. The damp air was cool against Harry's bare arms, and the stars shined brightly overhead. McGonagall stood in front of the dark wood door and tapped her wand against the door knob.

"Unfortunately, side-along Appariation is never comfortable, especially over long distances," she said, smiling apologetically, "But at least it is fast. Welcome to Hogsmeade." Harry checked that he had all his limbs and belongings and followed McGonagall into the house.

"Is this where you live?" he asked, curiosity overcoming politeness.

"Not since my husband died," she said, sadness thick in her voice, "I couldn't bear to live here after he passed, so I packed my bags and left. I now stay at Hogwarts most of the time, but I still own the place and I want you to have the same experience arriving as the rest of the first years."

The sudden light flaring from the end of her wand revealed the room to Harry's eyes. There was a large fireplace against one wall, with bookshelves on either side and a collection of comfy armchairs and a sofa completed the living room. Past a flight of stairs leading to the upper stories, he could see a cozy kitchen. With another flick her wand, all the dust and cobwebs were cleaned away, the gas lamps flared to life, and a fire sprang up in the chimney, illuminating the room in a warm glow.

"How do first years normally get to Hogwarts?" he asked, following McGonagall up the stairs.

"By train," she said, pointing down the hall to the right, "You can stay in that room, tell me if you find anything suspicious, some creatures thrive in abandoned places. I'll go get something to eat, do you prefer butterbeer or tea?"

"I've never had butterbeer, so I guess I'll try that," Harry said, opening his mouth to ask another question but McGonagall stopped him.

"I'll answer your questions over dinner," she said, smiling, "I'm sure you have a lot of them." He grudgingly agreed to hold his questions and proceeded to his room. Remembering McGonagall's warning about creatures, he unsheathed his sword as he opened the door. Thankfully, the room appeared to be unoccupied, by humans or otherwise. There was a window that looked over the back garden, and small, comfortable bed against one wall. There was a stand that looked as if a bird could perch on it, and more shelves brimming with books. He set his backpack down on the nightstand and put his weapons in the trunk at the foot of the bed, and headed downstairs to join McGonagall.

-oO0o0Oo-

McGonagall tried not to think of her past memories of the cottage, knowing it would only bring her pain. She reminded herself that it was only for one night, and that if she could fight in the worst wizarding war yet, she could be strong for just a little longer. She busied herself by cooking a rudimentary stew. She admitted that she wasn't the best of cooks, and she hadn't really had much practice since she became a Hogwarts' professor, as the house elves prepared any meals they required. Besides, one of the fundamental laws of transfiguration was that you couldn't transfigure food, and so had not learned many spells concerning that area of magic. The challenge helped take her mind off how everything in the cottage reminded her of him, and his death. The stew had just finished when Harry came downstairs, and she couldn't help but notice how he was always prepared for a fight. He had left his weapons upstairs, the rooms weren't big enough to swing a sword or fire arrows effectively, but his eyes were always moving, taking in information, and his muscles never completely relaxed. When he sat down, he positioned himself so that he could see all the entrances comfortably, and looked as if he was prepared to fight at any moment.

"Expecting any trouble?" she asked, floating a bowl to him.

"Always," he said, seriously, plucking the bowl out of the air, and taking a sip of butterbeer, "This is wonderful."

"Fills you with warmth, doesn't it?" she agreed, sitting across from him, "Now for your questions, I can tell you've been itching to ask them."

"Where can I get all my school supplies?" he asked immediately, "For that matter, what exactly are some of those items?"

"Well, a wand is what we use to perform magic. Each witch or wizard has a magical energy core, and the wand helps us focus that magic. You can perform wandless magic, but only the most powerful witches and wizards have had any success with it," she said, sipping her tea, "The cauldron is used for making potions, and you can buy all of those supplies and more in Diagon Alley. We'll be going there tomorrow, and you will also meet the person you'll be staying with, Neville Longbottom. He comes from a long line of wizards and I know his grandmother very well."

"Why can't I stay with you?" he asked.

"I have to get everything in order at Hogwarts, and I can't just leave you here alone," she said, nonplussed.

"What do you do, exactly, at Hogwarts?" he wondered, taking a bite of stew.

"I teach Transfiguration, which is basically transforming one object into another," she said, transforming her teacup into a kitten and then back again, "Normally, Transfiguration is performed on things other than yourself, but some witches or wizards who do are called Animagi."

"What is an animagus?" he interrupted. She gave him a stern look and said,

"If you keep interrupting me Mr. Potter, we could be here all night," she said, not unkindly, "But to answer your question, a demonstration might be more appropriate." And with that she reverted into her tabby cat form. Harry's jaw dropped, and she would have laughed at his expression if she was able. She returned to her human form and took a sip of tea as if nothing had happened, but she thought the mirth in her eyes might have given her away.

"Could I be able to do that?" he asked, hopefully.

"Perhaps, if you are a hard worker and competent with transfiguration," she said, truthfully, "But before you go off trying anything on your own, know it takes years to master, and you only have one form, which you can not pick. There are certain spells which can help give an idea of what your form might be, such as a patronus, but those are difficult and highly advanced. In adition, being an unregistered animagus is punishable by law." Far from dissuading him, she could see that he was even more determined to become an animagus. She admitted, "Your father was particularly gifted with transfiguration, he certainly had the skills to be an animagus. If you inherit any of his skills, I would say you would have a good chance to be an animagus." Seeing he was satisfied for the moment, she continued. "I am also Deputy Headmistress, and Head of Gryffindor House."

"Gryffindor House?" he asked, perplexed.

"Yes, during your stay at Hogwarts, you will be sorted into a house, Gryffindor, the house of the brave, Ravenclaw, the house of the intelligent, Hufflepuff, the house of the loyal, and Slytherin, the house of the cunning," she could not keep the distaste out of her voice at that name, "There you will sleep, study, and eat together, any positive acts will earn the house points, any transgressions will lose house points. If you win a quidditch match," she noticed his unspoken question and elaborated, "Wizarding sport played on broomsticks, also add to your house's points."

"You don't seem to like Slytherin," he said, picking up on her disfavor.

"Slytherins and Gryffindors are natural rivals," she said, reminding herself to keep her personal opinions more hidden in the future, "Besides, You-Know-Who came from Slytherin, in fact, they say that there hasn't been a witch or wizard that went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. Whether or not that is true, I couldn't tell you." He sat quietly for a moment, finishing his drink and then asked a question. This, she could tell, was the one he had been truly waiting to ask, the one that had been bothering him the most.

"Why did Voldemort's curse not kill me, if it was able to kill my parents?" he asked, staring into his cup. She paused for a moment, unsure of how to answer.

"I'm no expert Harry, Dumbledore is a much better judge of these things than I," she answered, equal parts kindness and sadness present in her voice, "He thinks that your mother, in her final moments, begged for the Dark Lord to kill her instead of you, and her sacrifice, her love for you, rebounded the curse upon it's caster, and so the Dark Lord is no more."

"Is Voldemort dead?" he asked, quietly.

"I doubt it, unfortunately," she said, waving her wand at their dishes, "He was, among many other, darker things, a great wizard, and if anyone could have found a way to cheat death, it was him."

They sat silently for a moment, watching the dishes clean and put themselves away.

"Now, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Chiron earlier," she said, in an attempt to lighten the mood, "You wanted to tell me something?"

"Just so you know, it isn't really my secret to give away," he said, lingering sadness still evident in his voice, "But Chiron trusts you, and if he believes that I can tell you, then I do too."

She could tell that Harry's mind was swimming with all the information that she had told him, but he managed to tell her about Camp Half-Blood and who they truly took care of. Although she was surprised, it actually made sense. Stories often spoke the truth more often than people realized.

"Well, the magical world has been keeping secrets for hundreds of years, it hardly surprises me that at least a portion of the muggles managed to keep one from us," she said, peering over her spectacles at Harry, "Although that one is more significant than I would have thought."

"You seem to be taking this rather well," he noted.

"I've been in charge of the Weasley twins for two years now, I've learned not to be surprised about things that are seemingly impossible," she said, mirth concealed in her voice, "But unfortunately others are not so accepting. The less information you give away, the safer you and your camp will be. Are you in any way related with those gods?"

"Well," he said, looking down at the table, "I don't have a godly parent, but I did ingest nectar at a very young age, which caused me to be taller, stronger, faster, and more agile than other kids my age. I can also heal very quickly, and I can see other people's godly auraus, which is why I wear these glasses. This has never happened before, so there might be other side effects we aren't aware of yet."

"I suppose that could be the reason your accidental magic was so powerful," she mused, "Before wizards come of age, they can have accidental bursts of magic when they are scared or angry, but I haven't heard of any of that magnitude, or so directed. Did you know what you were doing at the time?"

"No, but that wasn't the first time it had happened," he admitted, "The last time a hellhound made it in to camp, it tried to attack me and ended up being thrown back and impaling itself on a tree branch."

"Well, suffice it to say that you should have a promising future at Hogwarts," she said, thinking aloud, "If you can summon lightning accidentally, I'd like to see what you can do with a wand deliberately."

"Will you tell anyone?" he asked, eyes locked on her. McGonagall was reminded that this boy had been training as a warrior for his entire life. A terrible enemy to have, to be sure.

"It is not my secret to share," she said, truthfully, "Only you should be allowed to choose who knows of this." The boy nodded, satisfied, and she knew that if she broke her word, Harry Potter would come after her seeking justice. But now, it was time for the boy to seek his bed, and she said as much. As he climbed the stairs, she reverted to her cat form, settled down in front of the fire in her favorite armchair, and fell asleep. She couldn't bear to spend the night in the same bed where he had died.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

The adventure begins next! Another filler chapter, I know, but the next one should be fun.

To clarify: Harry will not be revealing Camp Half-Blood's secrets to the entire wizarding world, just to people he trusts.

Thanks for reading!


	7. The Wand Chooses the Wizard

Harry resisted the urge to jump up and down like an excited two-year-old, but he couldn't stop a wide smile from spreading across his face. After today he would be able to perform magic for real. McGonagall noticed his grin and smiled as well.

"Excited, David?" she asked, opening the door to the Leaky Cauldron. Before leaving the cottage, McGonagall had told him that Harry Potter was a celebrity in the wizarding world, and they had decided that he should go by a false name in order to remain inconspicuous.

"Of course," he answered, genuine happiness coloring his voice. The pub was well worn, as if it had been serving customers in the same building for hundreds of years, but it was clean and packed with people. A man called out from behind the bar,

"Professor McGonagall! I haven't seen you 'round these parts for a long time. Finally came to your senses and realized that I serve the best ale in Britain?"

"Apologies, Tom, but Madam Rosemerta has you there," she said, smiling, "I'm just passing through." The bartender waved toward the back of the pub, and Harry followed McGonagall, weaving around clusters of tables and customers. She stopped and introduced him to one.

"Professor Quirrell, how nice to see you here," she said, addressing a tall, lanky man wearing a turban, "David, this is Professor Quirell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Harry said, shaking Quirrell's hand. When they touched, Harry's palm began tingling and Quirrell pulled his hand away as if stung.

"Doing your sh-sh-sh-shopping?" stuttered Quirrell, "I'm sure I will s-s-s-see you at Hogwarts then." They continued out the back door of the pub, leaving Quirrell with his drink. Harry asked,

"Is he all right, Professor?" looking back at where they exited.

"He was such a bright student," McGonagall sighed, pulling out her wand and tapping a section of the brick wall, "But he ran into some trouble with vampires on his travels and hasn't been the same since. Welcome, to Diagon Alley."

The brick wall dissolved and Harry's heart swelled with emotion as he walked down the alley. Magic was everywhere; the buildings stuck out at odd angles, self-stirring caldrons were stacked outside a potion shop, various magical creatures peaked out of a window, a cluster of children ogled a broomstick, and wizards and witches rushed past, carrying packages. And rising above it all, a tall white marble building that broadcasted its strength and authority,

"Gringott's Wizard Bank," McGonagall declared, guiding him up the steps, "Your inheritance is stored here, although much of it can't be accessed legally until you are of age." They continued through the double doors into the grand hallway within. At desks along the edges, creatures sat, stacking coins or weighing jewels. "Goblins," McGonagall said, answering his unspoken question, "They have run this bank for generations." They approached an open teller and McGonagall handed the goblin a small gold key and a envelope.

"Mr. Potter wishes to access his vault," she said, authoritatively, "I also need to withdraw an important object on behalf of Hogwarts." The goblin peered over his spectacles at them, inspected the key and read the envelope. Finding everything in order, they followed him through a side door. The passage beyond looked like a cave, with a cart waiting on tracks that snaked off into darkness. They all climbed aboard, and the cart took off, seemingly without any direction from the goblin, speeding around corners and over deep ravines. They finally came to a stop in front of an unassuming door. The goblin inserted the key into the lock and swung open the door. A great mound of coins glittered immediately beyond the door, but Harry could see passageways branching off from the central chamber. Resolving to explore them at a later time, he filled the bag that McGonagall had given him and climbed aboard the cart once again. The cart traveled deep underground, faster and faster, passing through waterfalls and several concealed entrances. When the cart finally ground to a stop, the only object of interest was a plain wooden door. The goblin stroked the front of the door with a finger, and it simply melted away. Inside, Harry only caught a glimpse of a small, grubby package before McGonagall quickly placed it in one of her robe's pockets.

The bright light was blinding in contrast after exiting Gringotts' dark hallways. Blinking from the sudden glare, McGonagall guided Harry into shop called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. After conferring with the owner, she told Harry she would return when his robes were fitted and left the shop. Shrugging into a black robe and standing on a pedastool, Harry thought he was alone with the magical tape measurer when a pale boy with blonde hair cleared his throat.

"Hogwarts student?" he asked with a haughty tone, "Where's your parents? Abandoned you to McGonagall?" Somehow, the boy was able to smirk and talk at the same time. Fuming, Harry immediately straightened up to his full height and gave the boy his most intimidating glare. He knew he would crush the boy in a fight, even without his weapons, but he didn't want to start a brawl in his brand new robes. He snarled,

"You pompous idiot," he said, the boy cowering under his rage, "McGonagall is guiding me as I have traveled from America to come to Hogwarts. For insulting my family you should be lucky I do not challenge you to a duel." From the boy's shaking Harry could tell that he had made himself clear that he was not going to lie down and be bullied. "What is you name?"

"Draco, Draco Malfoy." the boy said, trying to hide behind his name as if it meant something. Harry tore through that defense like steel through paper.

"I don't care who you are," Harry snapped, "But I will not tolerate any insolence. Run, before I decide to beat you into the ground." The boy fled, tripping over his new robes in his haste, right past McGonagall who was entering. She took one look at Harry's murderous expression and said,

"Malfoy?" she asked, sighing, taking his new robes from him.

"Yes," Harry said, shaking off the last of his anger, "Let's go outside before I punch something."

"I think I know just the place to take your mind off that," McGonagall said, smiling and leading him out of the door.

This was certainly not what Harry had expected the store selling his ticket into a new world to look like. Narrow and shabby, the peeling gold letters above the door read Ollivander's: Maker of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C. A bell jingled into the cavernous, dark room, stacked high with shelves of thin boxes as they walked through the door.

"I was wondering when you would come in," a man said, silver eyes peering out of the shadows, "Mr. Potter." Harry immediately crouched into a defensive stance, this man was clearly powerful if he knew Harry's name without having been told. Mr. Ollivander, for that was who this man must be, continued.

"It seems only yesterday that your mother and father were in here buying their first wands," he said, as a floating tape measure began to take Harry's height, "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Which is your wand arm?" He asked, disappearing among the stacks of boxes.

"I'm right handed," Harry said, guardedly. The man returned with a box and with a gesture the tape measure crumpled to the floor.

"Try this," Ollivander said, handing him a wand. Unsure of what to do, Harry took it and flicked it toward the only lamp, which immediately exploded. Without a word, Ollivander handed Harry another one.

"Perhaps this one," he said. And so Harry tried, and tried and tried, but the pile of discarded wands grew higher and higher. Just when Harry was sure that this had all been a mistake, that he would never be able to perform magic, Ollivander handed him another wand.

"11 inches, holly, nice and supple," the man said, "Give it a wave." Harry grasped the handle and immediately a warmth filled him from head to toe, and the lightning marks on his palms began to glow. Suddenly confident, he waved the wand and little tendrils of lightning flew from the end, McGonagall clapped in excitement. Ollivander returned the wand to the box, and Harry felt as if he had just lost a dear friend. Ollivander muttered,

"Curious, very curious," wringing his hands while accepting Harry's payment. Harry couldn't resist.

"Excuse me, sir," he asked, interested, "But what's curious?" Ollivander's silver eyes seemed to stare deep into Harry's soul, and he suppressed an involuntary shiver.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. The phoenix whose feather resides in your wand," he said, quietly, "Gave one other feather, just one. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand, when its brother took your parents' lives." Harry wondered what that could mean for his future. The fates were known to make hero's lives difficult, he knew he shouldn't be surprised when they finally decided to meddle in his affairs. A knock from the door startled him out of his reverie. An oddly dressed elderly woman strode in, adorned in a hat decorated with a stuffed vulture and sporting a bright red, faux leather handbag, followed by what some would call a rather unassuming boy. Harry, however, could see that the boy's aura shone almost as bright as the woman proceeding him, and although hers was a tad hard around the edges, his shone with a kindness and bravery rivaled by only heroes in stories. Harry immediately knew that he wanted to be friends with this boy.

"Hello, my name is Harry Potter," he said, holding out his hand, "What is your name?" The woman interrupted,

"Do you respect your elders, boy?" The other boy looked extremely embarrassed, but Harry knew that this woman deserved his respect, even if she was a bit sharp. Sweeping into a bow, he responded,

"My apologies, my dear lady," he said, holding his hand out and receiving a firm shake in return, "Please excuse the momentary lapse in my manners. Of course one such as you deserves my respect first and foremost." The lady chuckled, and her voice was a bit warmer than before.

"Indeed," she continued and addressed the boy, "It appears Harry Potter does have some manners, eh Neville?" Harry realized that these were the people who he was to be spending the rest of the summer with.

"As you heard, my name is Neville," the boy said, quietly, shaking Harry's hand, "Have you gotten your wand yet?"

"Yes," Harry replied warmly, smiling, and the boy smiled in return, "Just did. Have you?"

"I got mine when we first arrived," he said, showing Harry, "We've been doing other shopping since then when we saw McGonagall through the window."

"Speaking of which," Agusta said, "Where is that professor? Gone to chase some mice?" She laughed at her own joke, and Neville smiled weakly. Harry thought that she had to be very close friends with McGonagall to know her animagus form. However, she was correct, McGonagall was nowhere to be found, she must have slipped out from the shop when Harry was busy meeting the Longbottoms. He berated himself on having gotten so careless and unobservant as to not notice her exit. Just then, there came another knock on the door, and through the window they could see McGonagall holding up a silver bird cage with a piece of parchment inside that read "One Owl of Mr. Harry Potter's choice". Harry immediately rushed outside and hugged the professor who was becoming more and more like a mother to him.

"Not so tight, David," she said, eyes twinkling, "You wouldn't want me accused of favoritism, now would we?" Harry looked at her, his overwhelming joy beaming out of his eyes and his smile. He had wanted a pet ever since he was a young boy, but there wasn't an opportunity for him to have one at Camp Half-Blood. Now one of his childhood dreams was coming true.

"Thank you so much," he said, grinning, "I'll be right back." He took off toward the shop where he had seen the animals before, McGonagall rushing after him in his wake. All the birds were beautiful, but one in particular caught his eye. It was a snowy white barn owl, and reminded him of his favorite pegasus at home. When he walked in, it woke up from its slumber, fixed its eyes on him, and gave a soft coo. When McGonagall finally caught up, he was stroking the bird and smiling peacefully.

"I've decided to name you Hedwig," he said to the bird, "McGonagall told me she was a very powerful witch." He smiled at McGonagall and was surprised to see her face look unusually stern.

"You have to be more careful, David," she said quietly yet harshly, "You need to keep your powers in check. You ran so fast it looked as if you had apparated, if anyone was paying attention it would raise some very dangerous questions." Then her face and voice softened, and she said "That is a beautiful owl." Harry resolved to be more careful, that was his second slip-up in several minutes. Neville and Augusta just then entered the shop and McGonagall held out her hand.

"I shall see you at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter," she said, her eyes shining with kindness and pride, "Don't cause any trouble for Mrs. Longbottom, you hear?" Harry shook her hand and nodded, and then McGonagall had appariated away. He turned to his hosts and asked,

"Shall we be going then?" excited for what lay in store. He would do McGonagall proud at Hogwarts.

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

This was such a fun chapter to write! In either the next chapter or the one after Harry will be off to Hogwarts.

Thanks for reading!


	8. The Train Trio

Augusta Longbottom sipped her morning tea and looked out into her back garden at the now familiar sight of her grandson and Harry Potter sparring. What an interesting young man, Harry was, she reflected as she watched them exchange blows. He had only stayed with them for last month, but already she could tell that he wasn't a normal eleven-year-old. He trained with archaic weapons last used in the middle ages, he was as tall as she was, carried himself as if always prepared for a fight, and if they asked about anything he thought was too sensitive, he would shut down as if covered in armor. But he also had a softness to him, he always treated her with respect, he treated Neville more kindly than anyone else ever had, offering to train him when he had asked, and he would sit for hours, reading his textbooks and practicing with his wand with Neville. Not to mention the strange things that had happened. After the one time they had seen him run in Diagon Alley, he had been more careful about letting loose, but she had woken up early one day and saw him during his private training. He had lifted a boulder that had to have been at least 200 pounds, and had run around the edge of the property faster than the eye could track. And his American accent. Harry was definitely not an ordinary boy. But she didn't say any of that as the two walked into in the kitchen, sweaty, but excited.

"Still training even on the day you two are supposed to be leaving for school?" she asked, not unkindly, handing the pair some breakfast.

"Might as well train while you can," Harry said seriously, accepting the offered plate.

"Besides, gran, the train doesn't leave till eleven o'clock," Neville added, sitting next to Harry and digging in.

"Well, we can't be late," she said, joining them at the table, "You two both packed?"

"Yes, we both packed last night," Neville answered.

"Thank you for the breakfast, Mrs. Longbottom," Harry said, politely.

"You finished that fast?" she said, smiling, "You want any more?"

"No, I'm good," Harry said, taking his plate to the sink, but before he could do anything she levitated the dish, cleaned it, and floated it to the cupboard.

"I keep forgetting how wonderful magic is," Harry said, "I'm used to doing it the muggle way."

"I know," Neville said, reminiscing, "My family thought I was a squib for the longest time, then one time by Uncle Algie was dangling me out of a window and he accidentally let go. I bounced, right into the garden. Even though my family was magical, I hadn't really understood how amazing it was until I knew that I could those things." Augusta's heart twinged as she heard his story, she knew she hadn't been as nice as she could have been to her grandson, but he just reminded her so much of his parents. It brought tears to her eyes every time she thought of why they were in St. Mungo's instead of raising their son.

"It's almost ten o'clock," she said, trying to take her mind off of the painful memories, "We need to get going if we want to make the train."

"Of course," Harry agreed, heading for the stairs, "I'll grab our trunks."

"I'll help you," Neville said, hurrying after, "I need to find Trevor." She smiled, and sipped her tea. That toad was always making trouble. Perhaps she should get Neville a different pet when he got back from his first year. He had certainly earned it. Formerly a shy, unassuming boy, the few weeks he had spent with Harry had brought out the courage so present in his parents. She hoped he would find the same home away from home at Hogwarts that she had, and his parents after her, those many years ago.

-oO0o0Oo-

Harry stood in front of what appeared to be a solid brick wall between platforms nine and ten and looked back questioningly at Augusta.

"How do you suppose we keep the muggles out?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and gesturing for him to continue. He admitted that he had been supposing the wizards would have a mundane way for climbing aboard a train, and reminded himself that since he had been told he was a wizard, nothing had been ordinary. He was about to do as Augusta had told him, when he saw over Neville's should a nervous looking girl with bushy brown hair, clutching a book and an unwieldy trunk just like Harry's. Her parents were wearing the same confused expression that Harry had been just moments before. He immediately knew that they were first time Hogwarts students.

"Having trouble finding the platform?" he asked, kindly, walking over to them, "It's my first time too."

"Yes," the girl said, relief evident in her voice, "I've read all the text books and even Hogwarts: A History, and nowhere does it say how to access the platform."

"Mrs. Longbottom says it's through that brick wall," he said, gesturing to the person in question and then holding out his hand, "I've been staying with them. I'm Harry Potter."

"Really," she said, skeptically, "I've read all about you and nowhere does it say that you carry a sword and a bow and quiver."

"I didn't know I was in any books," he said, truthfully, though remembering that McGonagall had said he was something of a celebrity, "However, I can assure you that I am Harry Potter. Either way, the train will leave soon. Shall we get going?" She still didn't look completely convinced, but she shook his hand.

"My name is Hermione Granger, but first let me say good bye to my parents," she said, turning towards them. He watched as they gave each other tearful goodbyes, and wished that his parents, Chiron, or even McGonagall could have been there to see him off on his first day of wizard school. Grabbing her trunk, Hermione strode off to the waiting Longbottoms, Harry, still reminiscing, following in her wake.

"You go first, Neville," Augusta said, as they approached, "Show Harry I'm not leading him into a trap." Harry shrugged his shoulders, admitting he had been more suspicious of several doors in their house than what was strictly necessary. Neville smiled, wheeled his trunk forward, and disappeared through the brick wall.

"You two next," she said, "Best to do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous." Knowing that he had taken down every monster imaginable didn't prepare him for running straight at a solid wall. However, he took a deep breath, set off at a jog, and ran at the red bricks, Hermione at his heels. He tensed, waiting for the impact, but sailed right through. Augusta joined them at a properly sedate pace as they were busy staring around at all the sights. A gleaming red steam engine awaited them, letters in gold proclaimed it to be the Hogwarts Express, and a sign above read Platform 9 ¾. Packed with people and every sort of pet imaginable, covered in billowing smoke, Harry could not imagine a scene more perfect to see him off. Excited, he helped the rest of their group load all their trunks onto the nearest open carriage, said goodbye to Augusta, and climbed aboard just as the whistle for departure blew, waving at the rapidly disappearing crowd. As the train sped out of London, a wide smile spread across his face; he was finally on his way to Hogwarts.

-oO0o0Oo-

Neville sat, rubbing the sore spots on his palms from mornings of swordplay, listening to Harry and Hermione chat about muggle books and watching the countryside fly by. His heart fluttered with excitement, he would finally be able to attend the school his grandmother and his parents had attended. His eyes filled with silent tears as he thought of his parents in St. Mungo's, unable to see their son off to his first day of school. Given how unsure his family had been that he would be able to attend, this moment was especially important. Taking a deep breath and calming his mind like Harry had taught him, he was glad that Harry was his friend. When they first met, he could tell that Harry had faced hardships, and was stronger for it, and he wanted to overcome challenges the same way, so he asked Harry if he could learn how to fight as well. When Harry had agreed, they searched the whole Longbottom manor looking for a sword that fit Neville, desecrating a few suits of armor along the way. They had bonded over exchanging blows in the chilly Britain morning, warming up by the fire discussing wizarding and muggle culture, and going over their textbooks, practicing the spells within. He looked down at his sheathed sword, gold with embedded rubies, and was glad for the newfound strength it symbolized. Although he would always feel sad for his parent's condition, at least now he could do something to avenge them. They had found it on a suit of armor that looked like it had belonged to a Roman centurion, many centuries ago, and when Neville picked it up, it was almost like when he held his wand for the first time. He had decided to get a wand of his own, and leave his father's wand with it's rightful owner, in the hopes that maybe in the future would be able to wield it again.

Sensing his thoughts, Harry laid a quiet hand of support on Neville's shoulder, drawing him out of his reminiscing. He couldn't understand much of what Hermione and Harry were talking about, but he liked Hermione, she had helped him find his toad and had fixed his cloak, he could never figure out how to fasten it the right way. Besides, Harry was the most suspicious person he had met, combing the entire Longbottom manor for traps when he had first arrived. If Harry trusted her, he did too.

The door to the compartment slid open, revealing a tall, lanky teenager with bright red hair. He was the first person who was Neville's age and could rival Harry for height that Neville had seen. The boy was clearly distraught, eyes darting everywhere as if looking for something.

"Can I help you?" Harry asked, stern, but not unkindly.

"I've lost my rat," the boy said, "And my brothers won't help me look. Have you seen it?"

"No," Harry said, softening, "But we will tell you if we do. What's your name?"

"Ron," the boy said, still distressed but less so, "Ron Weasley."

"Well, nice to meet you Ron," Harry said, "This is Hermione, and Neville."

"And you are?" Ron asked. Neville reflected that Ron might mean well, but his manners were lacking.

"Harry," Harry said, not giving a last name, clearly valuing his privacy. Ron waited, but when Harry didn't continue, shrugged.

"See you at Hogwarts, then," Ron said, exiting, "Please let me know if you see my rat."

The door slid shut, only for it to be shoved open rudely again a few moments later. Neville recognized the middle boy flanked by two boys whose strengths were clearly lay in their brawn and not their brains. During one of the few times Augusta had taken him to the ministry, he had seen Draco and his father, Lucius. Augusta had steered him well clear of them, saying that their family was dark to the core, and Lucius had the minister in his pocket. Judging by the murderous look on Harry's face, his experience with Malfoy junior hadn't been pleasant either.

"What do you want?" Harry growled, unsheathing his sword and standing up. Neville immediately drew his sword as well, standing beside him. Hermione, looking confused but determined, leveled her wand at the intruders.

"We came here to ask you some questions," Draco said, sneering, although he failed to look intimidating when Harry could easily see over Draco's taller bodyguards. Neville could tell that although Malfoy acted brave, take away his henchmen and he'd run away screaming if faced with a fight.

"What makes you think we'll answer?" Neville said, pointing his sword at Draco. He wasn't about to let his friend be interrogated. Everyone had delicate secrets, and Neville could tell that Harry had more dangerous ones than most. Harry smiled at Neville, then turned back to Draco.

"Under any other circumstance, I would be tempted to use my sword to give you an answer," Harry said, his voice filled with menace, and Neville could tell that everyone knew Harry was speaking the truth, "But I'll let you go this once. Get out of this compartment before Neville has an accident with his sword. He hasn't quite mastered it yet, and I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt." Draco and his henchmen quickly left, their attempt to leave with some sort of dignity failing when they tripped over each other competing to be the first to leave. Neville swelled with pride that Harry trusted him to have his back, and resolved to be worthy of that trust. He wouldn't let Harry down.

-oO0o0Oo-

The train slowed to a stop, and the trio of friends disembarked. Over the heads of the crowd of students, a giant of a man was calling

"First years ov'r here, first years," in a booming voice. Weaving their way through the tide of people, Harry could tell that this man very well could be a giant. Twice as tall as any man, and three times as wide, he looked as if he could pick Harry up in one gigantic hand.

"Right, all the first years here?" the man said, shining a lantern so he could see all their faces. He seemed to be looking for someone in particular. "Follow me, I'll be leadin' you to Hogwarts." Harry's heart pounded with excitement. So much awaited him at this wizard school. He could learn magic, ask questions of McGonagall, and experience things he had never dreamed of. Perhaps, here at Hogwarts, he could even finally be able to learn something more about his parents and the fateful night that changed everything.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

Apologies for the late update. Harry will be entering Hogwarts in the next chapter, and the story will begin in earnest.

Thanks for your reviews!


	9. A Champion Confrontation

Hermione's heart fluttered with excitement as her's, Harry's, and Neville's boat glided across the moonlight black lake to the glittering castle above. When she had first been told that she was a witch, she thought she was being pranked. Her parents were dentists, and several of the most down to earth, scientific people you would never meet. To be told that their daughter would be able to perform magic was her idea of a cruel joke. A quiet, studious girl, it wasn't the first time she had been targeted by bullies. But when McGonagall had shown her that what she had been told was true, she had a new hope to hold on to. She would be given a chance to start over, to learn skills thought impossible by science, and perhaps be accepted for who she was. From the moment she had gotten her textbooks, she had memorized them front to back, she wasn't going to let a background devoid of magic hold her back from being the best witch she could be. Confident that she knew everything she needed, she strode into Kings Cross Station determined to start the year off strong. But that newfound confidence vanished when she couldn't find the platform. How was she going to be the best in the class if she couldn't even find the way to get to the school? But then, in her moment of distress, Harry had offered to help, and sit together on the train. They had bonded, chatting about books they had read, his time with Neville, and the wizarding world. For the first time she had friends she could rely on, and who viewed her as their equal. Growing up in a male dominated society, it was nice to be recognized for her strengths and not her gender. She wasn't going to lose these friends who had already given her so much.

She noticed Harry looked more tense than usual, gripping the hilt of his sword so tight that his fingers were turning white.

"Are you all right Harry?" she asked, concerned. If anything could cause Harry to act this way, she didn't want to face it alone.

"I've never liked the water," he admitted grudgingly, "It hinders your movements and hides your foes, the last thing you want when you battle."

"But Harry, you're not battling anything right now," Neville pointed out.

"A warrior is always battling," Harry said somberly, "Even if others can not see the conflict." The trio sat in silence, unsure of how to respond to Harry's statement. Harry clearly had walked a hard path to get where he was now, and was still continuing on that same path. Their boat glided under a curtain of ivy, grinding to a halt at a gravel harbor. Harry quickly sprung onto land with the grace of a feline, clearly wanting to be upon solid ground and away from the water as fast as possible, while the others followed in a more ungainly fashion. Climbing the rough, hewn stone steps, damp with moisture, Hermione knew she was taking her first steps to achieving her dream of becoming a masterful witch.

A stern looking witch awaited them at the top of the stairs, peering down at them through her square spectacles. Hair pulled back into a sharp bun, and her pointed hat placed precisely out of place, Hermione knew that this was someone she did not want to face. The witch let out a small smile when she laid eyes on Harry, who returned the gesture, and her eyes glittered with surprise when she saw Neville carrying a sword of his own. Then the serious expression returned and any chatter the first years had engaged in was immediately silenced.

"Welcome, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor McGonagall, of Transfiguration, and Deputy Headmistress. Before the start of term feast may begin, you must all be sorted into your houses, who will be like your family throughout the course of your stay at Hogwarts. Wait here until I return, and try to make yourselves presentable in the meantime," she said, eyes falling upon one of Malfoy's thugs' too short robes and Ron's dirty nose. She swept through the doors behind her, and Hermione caught a glimpse of a large hall lit with floating candles, packed with people, which she assumed to be the Great Hall. She began to worry, what if she got placed in a house that she didn't like? Or one that she was separated from her newfound friends? She couldn't be isolated from the only friends she had made in ten years for the rest of her time at school! Then she took a deep breath, as she had seen Neville and Harry do, and told herself that she would not be the helpless female sidekick that most of her books portrayed. She could, and would, choose her own destiny.

-oO0o0Oo-

Harry strode into the Great Hall, hand on his sword, head held high. Chiron had taught him that a warrior must always make a strong first impression. To his left, there was a long table at which members of the staff sat, he recognized Professor Quirrell among them. In the middle sat an old man, with half moon glasses and a long white beard. Harry tried hard not to squint while he looked at him, the man's aura was almost blinding, outshining even McGonagalls. He put his glasses back on to make the glare bearable, but even then he could see a faint glow surrounding the man. McGonagall stood in front of the group of first years, holding a old, worn hat. To his right were four tables placed perpendicularly to the staff table, and he surmised that they were for each of the different houses.

"Abbott, Hannah," McGonagall called out, and a pale, blonde haired girl placed the hat upon her head. After a moment of deliberation, it called out,

"Hufflepuff!" Only one table cheered for the announcement. Hannah returned the hat to McGonagall, and headed off to the table which had applauded. He watched as, time and time again, the hat called out a name, and one table cheered. Neville and Hermione were sorted into Gryffindor, and Malfoy into Slytherin. As he watched, he wondered. Hermione clearly had the intelligence to be worthy of Ravenclaw, and McGonagall as well. Neville could have easily been sorted into Hufflepuff, yet only one of his characteristics was selected to determine his house. As Harry's name was called, whispers ran throughout the Great Hall. Malfoy looked dumbstruck that Harry Potter had rejected his advances multiple times and he hadn't even noticed. As Harry walked forward, he remembered one of Chiron's first teachings.

"A warrior cannot be defined as one thing," Chiron stated in the memory to a young Harry, "If an enemy knows all that you are, you have already lost before the battle begins. Train as hard with your words as your swordplay." Back in the present, McGonagall gave him the hat, and Harry knew what he had to do. He said only one word.

"No."

-oO0o0Oo-

Neville was proud to be in Gryffindor. He knew that before he had met Harry, he was probably destined to be a Hufflepuff. He had been surprised that Hermione had made it as well, but he had only know her but a few hours, so he supposed she could have bravery that he did not know of. Harry could go into any house. He was as intelligent as a Ravenclaw, having mastered the first year spells mere weeks after receiving the books, his battle strategy had enough cunning to easily place him in Slytherin, and he had shown loyalty to Neville that wasn't present in any house besides Hufflepuff. He hoped Harry would be in Gryffindor, Neville didn't want to lose his first friend, and he could tell Hermione felt the same way. He waited anxiously as Harry took the hat, and then he did the unthinkable.

"No," Harry said, giving the hat back to McGonagall. The hall erupted into noise, and he and Hermione jumped to their feet. Then the old man, who Neville knew to be Dumbledore, stood and raised his hands. The silence was immediate and unbroken; a pin drop would have been as loud as a thunderclap in the sudden absence of any noise.

"Mr. Potter, every student who has attended Hogwarts has been sorted into one of these four houses," Dumbledore spoke quietly, yet every person present in the hall could hear him as if he was sitting next to them, "If you do not partake in the sorting, we cannot allow you to stay at Hogwarts." Neville noticed that Dumbledore looked concerned, but was trying to hide it, while McGonagall looked downright horrified.

"My answer is still no," Harry said solemnly. He drew himself up to his full height and looked Dumbledore square in the eyes. The force of his gaze would have felled a lesser man. "I have trained as a warrior my entire life, and what I can tell you is this. A warrior must surround themselves with their equals, otherwise all of them will die without fail. To be strong, each and every warrior must be brave, cunning, loyal, and intelligent. Yet here you purposefully fit every person into one category, and have prepared yourselves for failure. The moment it is required for the brave to be intelligent, or the cunning to become loyal, under the system you have here, it will be the moment the enemy will triumph. That is why I can say with absolute certainty that I am the most capable fighter in this room. I will not waste my time here undoing the work I have done my whole life. I had hoped to gain new skills here, but now I know that under these rules there is nothing worth teaching. If I cannot attend here without being sorted, I will gladly return to Long Island."

Neville didn't think, he just acted. His footsteps against the flagstones rang as loud as gunshots. Then another pair of gunshots joined him and he turned to see Hermione following him, face determined. When he reached Harry, he only looked surprised for a moment then he smiled. Neville smiled back.

"Got room for two more?" he asked, seriously.

"I'm sure we can make room," Harry said, putting his hands on both of their shoulders. He then turned again to Dumbledore, "Well? Which shall it be?"

"The standards of Hogwarts must be up held," Dumbledore said gravely, "We treat each student the same, no exceptions. As Headmaster, this is my final answer."

"Unfortunately, Headmaster Dumbledore, you don't have the only say," The voice came from behind them, and with shock Neville realized it was the hat. "And Hogwarts will not let her most promising student leave without passing the standard seven years of study. Come here, Potter." No one looked more surprised than Harry at the words the hat spoke, but he did as he was commanded, and his steps were assured and confident. "Hogwarts has been waiting for many years for the one who would reject the sorting, who displayed the qualities that all four founders held dear," the hat continued, "I was instructed by Godric Gryffindor himself to carry out these actions, no matter what the current Headmaster or Headmistress wished. Hogwarts looks after her own. This is why, Harry Potter, I name you Hogwarts Champion, and grant you this blade to carry out the justice dictated by Hogwarts and her people." As the hat spoke the words, a gleaming silver sword embedded with rubies and emblazoned with the name of Godric Gryffindor emerged from the hat.

-oO0o0Oo-

Harry's mind was whirling. Hogwarts, the institution, wanted him to stay, and was naming him champion. He grasped the hilt of his sword, and a wave of confidence and conviction crashed through him. This weapon was meant for him, he could feel it in his very bones. The only thing that had compared was his wand's acceptance of him. Handing his previous sword to Hermione he said,

"You will need this if you wish to train with us, I have no need of it now." Raising the sword of Godric Gryffindor high, he announced to the room "I pledge myself to the service of Hogwarts, to carry out the justice demanded by her and her people, to the best of my ability, until she deems me no longer fit for the honor." He turned to the hat, "Are my companions granted the same protection?"

"As long as they serve and protect Hogwarts' wishes, the champion's allies may do as they wish," the hat said, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He'd hate to see his new friends get into trouble because of him. Hermione and Neville raised their swords and pledged to serve Hogwarts as Harry had. As they did, he could tell that Dumbledore, for that was what the hat had called him, wanted to do something, anything, about what was taking place, but evidently could not and the man was clearly not pleased with the idea that he was powerless. Turning his back on the fuming Headmaster, the trio collectively sheathed their swords, bowed to the hat, then strode out of the utterly silent Great Hall, into the adventures that awaited them.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

An exciting chapter just in time for the holidays.

Thanks for your reviews!


	10. Requirements

McGonagall sat in severe shock as the Great Hall exploded into noise around her. She had just watched her favorite first year and his friends publicly defy years of Hogwarts tradition, prepared to leave in order to stand by their decision, and then Hogwarts herself undoing Dumbledore's conviction and naming them Hogwarts Champion and Allies, respectively. She could feel the waves of resentments exuding from Dumbledore as he seethed at being shown up. The last person who had done something like this was Gellert Grindelwald, and they had fought a duel to the death. Since Dumbledore couldn't attack Hogwarts without losing his job, she knew Harry would face Dumbledore's wrath, one way or another. At that moment, she knew she would support Harry in his efforts. The hat had struggled to decide whether to place her in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, and while she didn't regret the hat's decision, she loved her house, she knew it did have its drawbacks. This was similar to how she didn't learn any cooking spells because she focused on Transfiguration. She knew that she had focused only on her bravery. Perhaps it was time for her to embrace her cunning, loyal, and intelligent sides as well.

Dumbledore stood, and his anger was so apparent that all the small objects in the room began to vibrate slightly. He didn't even need to lift a finger to get the hall's attention.

"What we have witnessed here was a clear violation of Hogwarts tradition," Dumbledore bit off the words as if they were bitter in his mouth, "I expect no other student to attempt such brash acts. The same punishment for flouting the rules will follow. In addition, attempting to access the third floor corridor or the Forbidden Forest will result in similar disciplinary actions." The feast appeared upon the tables, but Dumbledore beckoned them all to follow him out of the hall. She rose with the rest of the staff and they proceeded into a quiet side room. Once the door was shut behind them, all hell broke loose.

"What the hell was that, Dumbledore?" Snape shouted, enraged, "Just what we need, another Potter acting like he owns the place."

"Hogwarts has its own opinion?" Flitwick mused, "That must have been some serious charmwork."

"Th-th-this has never happened b-b-before?" Quirrell stuttered, "It c-c-could be d-d-dark magic." He looked terrified at the very thought.

"Where will the boy stay?" Sprout asked, "I don't know if any of the dormitories will accept him as it is."

"For that matter, who is to be put in charge of him?" Madam Pomfrey wondered, "If he has no house."

"I'll take charge of him." With those few words, all voices died immediately and McGonagall felt every eye upon her, yet she was steadfast in her belief. "I have known Harry longer than any of you and I can say for a fact that he meant no harm by his actions. In fact, before today I would have told you that he believed he was destined to be a Gryffindor. I believe that having a background devoid of magical influence caused him to clearly see the flaws in the system. I know that every one of us here, regardless of their sorting, could have easily gone to a different house. I myself believe what Harry said to be true, and will take full responsibility for his future actions. We should not give him any other special treatment, in order to ensure that everyone's Hogwarts experience remains as normal as possible."

"And what if you are wrong?" Snape seemed to be looking for a reason to get Harry expelled, "What if we have just accepted a dangerous dark wizard into our midst?"

"Well, it wouldn't have been the first time, now would it?" McGongall answered, menace clearly evident in her voice.

"Headmaster, what is your opinion on the matter?" Flitwick asked. The fury was still evident in Dumbledore's tone when he answered, and his long hair was sticking out in every direction, as if he had been just hit by lightning.

"Make no mistake, if Harry continues to defy our rules, he will suffer the consequence. Until that point, do not treat him as if he was any different from another student. I will see to it that he will see the errors of his ways." Then he stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. When he had left, they realized that every object in the room had been charged with static electricity, simply from the force of his anger, and everyone was reminded that Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard of the age.

-oO0o0Oo-

It had been a long time since Harry had been unsure of what to do, but the events leading up to this had left him completely unprepared. It was his first time in Hogwarts, the only person he knew was McGonagall, and he had just dragged sacred Hogwarts tradition in the dirt. Not the best way to start your first day of magic school. Neville picked up on his hesitation.

"So, what do we do now? Where do we go?" Neville asked, more to himself than anyone else, but Hermione answered.

"Well, I bet the house common rooms would be closed to us, since we weren't sorted," she said, thoughtfully, "We could try the library, or perhaps McGonagall's office?"

"How about asking a painting?" Neville suggested. Seeing their confused faces, he explained, "For you muggle-raised, the paintings capture the essence of their subject, so they move and have the knowledge of their subject as well. We don't know how to get to any of those places, but they might."

"How about asking us instead?" An unfamiliar voice said, and Harry pivoted to find the source of the words.

Behind him stood a group of four silvery, transparent people, who Harry assumed to be ghosts.

"Pardon me," he said, "But I don't know who you are."

"I do," Hermione said, still awkwardly holding her sword, as she was without a sheathe. She had clearly never handled a weapon, and Harry resolved to remedy that as soon as possible. "These are the Bloody Baron, Slytherin House ghost," a stern looking figure splashed with ominous bloodstains, who tipped his hat to Harry, "the Grey Lady, ghost of Ravenclaw House," a somber lady who gave Harry a solemn stare, "the Fat Friar, Hufflepuff's house ghost," a monk who gave Harry a jovial wave, "and Nearly Headless Nick, ghost of Gryffindor house." The latter bowed deeply to Harry,

"Call me Sir Nicholas, if you wouldn't mind," he said "It is an honor to meet a fellow knight such as yourself."

"I'm sorry to disappoint," Harry said, honestly, "But I'm only a warrior, not a knight."

"Hogwarts says you are," the ghost replied, and in response to Harry's dubious look, said, "Just look at your robes." Harry was surprised to notice that sometime between when he had put on his standard black Hogwarts robes, they had changed to a dark purple, and where normally a house crest was displayed, his was emblazoned with the Hogwarts' crest capped with a knight's helmet and the words "Champion of Hogwarts". Hermione's and Neville's had changed as well, and read "Knights of Hogwarts". Harry turned to the ghosts and asked,

"Do you speak for Hogwarts?"

"We do as she wishes," the Fat Friar said, "But if you want to speak to her, we can relay your message."

"Give her my thanks," Harry said, bowing deeply, "And that I will continually strive to be worthy of this honor."

"She knows," the Friar said, smiling, "That is why she chose you," He addressed Hermione and Neville, "All of you."

"You said you could help us?" Neville asked, seeming a bit shocked that he was considered a knight.

"Yes," Sir Nicholas said, "Hogwarts has many secrets, and as her chosen ones, you have access to all of them. Not even the Headmasters know all there is at Hogwarts."

"Is one of those secrets a place where we could stay?" Hermione asked, looking eager to learn about Hogwarts long undiscovered knowledge.

"Indeed," he said, smiling, "If you would follow me."

It came as a bit of a surprise to Harry that one of Hogwart's secrets would be a blank wall on the seventh floor opposite a painting of trolls attempting ballet. He was pacing, waiting for the others to catch up, when he noticed the wall was no longer blank. He wondered how he could have missed what was obviously a wrought iron door embedded into the stone wall.

-oO0o0Oo-

The corridor was empty, except for a painting of trolls doing ballet and a suit of armor. Hermione had seen Harry ahead of them with Sir Nicholas, but now neither of them could be found, and when she turned to ask the rest of the ghosts where they were, only Neville remained.

"Where are they all?" she asked.

"I don't know," Neville replied, then shouted down the hallway "Harry?"

"Come on in," Harry said, and Hermione turned to see him grinning from a doorway she knew hadn't existed before.

"Harry, what is this?" Neville asked, confused.

"You'll see," Harry replied, eyes twinkling.

Hermione stood, jaws agape, in a place, by any normal means, should not be able to exist. For one, the sheer size was staggering, looking up, she had trouble discerning where it ended. The ceiling above had a large hole in the middle, through which she could see many rings of floors. They were clearly in some form of tower, but she hadn't noticed one of this size from the outside. They had entered into a grand, circular room, in the center was a round table set for three, while around the outside edges there were various collections of comfortable sofas and armchairs centered around windows, roaring fireplaces that illuminated the room in a comfortable glow, and coffee tables. An open archway led to a spiral staircase that lead both up and down, and she hurried up the steps with glee, the others following on her heels. The next floor, she knew, was where she was going to spend most of her time, as it was an extensive library. The others were openly grinning at her childlike wonder, but she couldn't help it. Rows upon rows of bookshelves were a maze of knowledge, leading to openings with comfy chairs, a window seat with a view of the grounds, or tables for studying. This was her idea of paradise. Clearly as eager to explore as she was, Neville charged up the next flight of steps. Upon entering the next floor, she discovered it to be a large open space, perfect for practicing spells. There were dummies in one corner, enchanted to act lifelike, targets upon one wall, plenty of objects for them to transfigure or charm, and a wardrobe that shook when they approached. Neville was clearly enjoying himself. This time, Harry was the one to lead them up the steps, and from his gasp of amazement she knew this was his favorite room so far. She wasn't a bit surprised when she entered. On one wall hung every sort of weapon imaginable, from nun chucks to throwing stars to battle axes to long bows. There was an archery range, a collection of straw dummies, a sort of fighting arena, and a rock climbing wall. Eyes shinning with delight, Harry looked the happiest she had ever seen him. She was about to lead them upwards once more when Sir Nicholas stopped her.

"You can explore your quarters after dinner," he said, "We have much to discuss while you eat."

They trooped back down the long flight of stairs, but this time Sir Nicholas led them past what she thought of as the "Living Room", into a smaller room in which there was only three doors marked with a brass plate. Upon closer inspection, the middle read "Harry", the left, "Neville" and "Hermione" on the right. Sir Nicholas gestured at the doors.

"These doors are tuned to their owner," he said, "If you wish to access something, say, the Gryffindor common room, simply think of the destination and pass through the door. Follow the passage until it ends, and you should find yourself exactly where you wished to be." Sir Nicholas sensed Hermione's skepticism and smiled. "If you don't believe me, try it yourself." Walking toward the door marked with her name, she said

"Library," and pushed open the oak wood door to find a short passageway through which she could see several bookshelves. Needless to say, she was very impressed, and from the whistle Neville gave, he was as well. Sir Nicholas chuckled with amusement and swept back up the stairs.

"Come," he called, "Dinner awaits."

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

Apologies for the late update and some more filler, but next chapter should be very interesting.

Thanks for reading.


	11. Duties and Abilities

ir Nicholas smiled as the trio of first years gasped when food suddenly appeared on the table. The rest of the ghosts had returned from their other duties, and they joined the rest of the merry group, although the Fat Friar looked less jovial than usual, no doubt wishing he could enjoy a dinner again. He knew how he felt, after 500 years of no sensations, he just wanted to remember how it felt to taste a nice steak. The trio quickly finished their food, clearly curious as to what Sir Nicholas had wanted to discuss with them.

"No questions until after I am done explaining," he said, with a pointed look at Hermione, then continued. "Hogwarts was founded by, as I'm sure you know, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin, the best witches and wizards of their age. Together they could produce powerful magic, and when they created Hogwarts, they combined all of their abilities to produce something utterly unique. Hogwarts is a building, yes, and also an institution, but she is alive, somewhat sentient, and can wield powerful magic. Every object within her walls is part of her being. No ordinary buildings have moving staircases and walls that pretend to be doors. She chooses her headmasters, her teachers, and watches over her students. Being ghosts who have chosen to haunt this place, we have become connected to her. The Sorting Hat serves as her mouthpiece, and through it she can see the minds of every student that passes through her doors. All of this was created when the four founders were in harmony with each other, but when Salazar Slytherin broke off from the others, the remaining three founders knew they needed someone to look after the people within Hogwarts halls and protect them from nefarious influence. So, Godric Gryffindor instructed the Sorting Hat that when it found a student who had loyalty, cunning, bravery, and intelligence, and was willing to fight for the protection of others, it would name them Champion of Hogwarts, and grant that warrior his sword. You, Harry Potter, have been the first person deemed to be worthy of this honor."

"That being said, your unique position comes with quite a few perks," the Fat Friar continued, "All doors are open to you in Hogwarts, and I do mean all. A Champion and his allies are free to pass anywhere, so the Forbidden Forest is open to you. It is actually a sort of preserve for various magical animals. Being Champions of Hogwarts, most animals will accept you when they would normally not. However, there are some dark creatures in there, so I would advise against entering it until you are confident you can face anything you find. While in Hogwarts itself, all ghosts, portraits, and house elves will assist you if you ask for them."

"However, know that Hogwarts does not bestow these gifts upon you lightly," the Grey Lady said, not meeting their eyes. Sir Nicholas was shocked; these were the first non-Ravenclaws she had spoken to in over 5 centuries. "While you are here, you must protect the student body from darkness, whether that comes in the form of a man or a creature, or a state of mind. You may think the instant access to any place within the castle and the personal assistants are simply for your own convenience, but what happens when the castle is under siege by the Dark Lord, you and your allies are trapped and members of the student body are being murdered with every minute that passes? These gifts are not for you, they are for the safety of the student body. As such, any time Hogwarts notices a disturbance within her walls, you must respond to it, or have your position revoked. War is coming to Hogwarts, even now, pureblood bigotry infects her halls and the Dark Lord gathers strength for his return. In the midst of this turmoil, Hogwarts cannot have inadequate defenders. If you are not prepared to give everything, then Hogwarts has chosen wrong." With those somber words, the Grey Lady rose from the table and promptly phased through the wall. The table sat in serious silence for a few moments until the Fat Friar broke the dark mood.

"Well, from what I can see, Hogwarts has chosen magnificently, and so has gifted you with equally magnificent quarters," the ghost said jovially, "Centuries of Headmasters have not even known of this place, and for good reason. Hogwarts does not reveal the Room of Requirement to just anyone."

"I can see how it is magnificent," Hermione said, gesturing at the grand space around them, "But why keep it secret? It's just extra living quarters."

"Harry, what were you thinking of as you paced in front of the door?" Sir Nicholas asked, trying not chuckle at the boy's expression.

"I just wanted a place for us to stay," said Harry, looking shocked.

"Exactly," said the Friar, laughing while he gestured to the space around them, "Welcome, to the Room of Requirement."

"Anything you want, the room will provide," Sir Nicholas continued, "Simply think of what you require before you enter. While you are here at Hogwarts, this dormitory will always be open to you. Simply think "Eagle's Claws, Badger Paws, Lion's Mane, Serpent's Fangs" and you will be able to access this place from any location on the grounds. The entrance on the seventh floor is where others would be able to access the room, by pacing back and forth 3 times whilst thinking of their needs. The doors downstairs can also act in the same way, for instance, if you need a place to hide something, your door will open into such a space. If you find that you require a specific place often, one day you may notice that this tower will have added another floor with such a space."

"I can see why this would need to remain a secret," said Neville, looking a tad awestruck.

"In terms of security, I would rank this among the most fortified places in the castle," the Fat Friar said, "It can't be plotted upon any map, and during the time one person is using the room, another can't access it without the person's permission, if their sole purpose is related to the person currently using the room."

"A warrior can only sleep comfortably when they know they are well defended," Harry said, quoting one of Chiron's lessons, "I'm sure I will have no trouble sleeping here."

"Speaking of which," Sir Nicholas said, "Your first day of classes begins tomorrow, and you will want to be well rested."

"I'm sure you all want to explore your personal quarters as well," the Fat Friar said, and Sir Nicholas grinned as he watched the trio race to the stairs.

-oO0o0Oo-

Harry flew up the steps, so excited that he forgot to hide his strengths. He raced past doors bearing Neville's and Hermione's names, spiraling higher and higher until he came upon a door bearing his own name. He knew the steps continued upward, but decided to explore them another time. Pushing against the dark oak door, he couldn't help but smile as he saw what the circular room contained. The floor was made of smooth flagstones, warm to the touch, and the walls were the blue of the afternoon summer sky over Long Island, with many windows providing views of the extensive grounds. To the right of the entrance was a large dark oak desk with many drawers and a comfortable-looking chair. Continuing along the right wall there was a large cabinet, also in dark oak, that Harry assumed was for his robes. Next to the armoire was a strange suit of clothing that looked like a cross between wizard robes and an old fashioned knight's suit of armor. A silver metal chest piece, with interlocking silver plates continued over the shoulder to just above the elbow, was paired with silver gauntlets, bracers, and boots that went up to the knee. A black belt was adorned with a sheathe and what Harry thought must be a wand holster. The pants and the rest of the outfit was made of some sort of black, scaly fabric that seemed utterly impenetrable yet surprising flexible. The ensemble was completed by a dark purple, floor-length, hooded cape made of a thick, heavy fabric. Harry wasn't sure how practical fighting in the cape would be, but it definitely made the armor look much more impressive. He supposed the hood could be drawn up to protect the head, as the outfit was lacking a helmet. To the left of the suit of armor was a large fireplace providing the space with warmth, which was surrounded by comfortable, navy blue sofas and chairs, and a white rug. To the left of the fireplace, framed by two windows and night tables was a dark oak four-poster bed, complete with navy curtains and blankets and surrounded by another white rug. He noticed that his trunk was at the foot of the bed, and had no idea how it had gotten there, as well as Hedwig, who was standing on a handsome looking perch, which she seemed very proud of. Past a door lay a comfortable bathroom, and another set of stairs led upward.

Harry stood at the entrance of what he supposed was his own second floor, filled with an overwhelming sense of longing and, though he would never admit it, homesickness. Two French doors led out onto an impressive balcony, and even though it was exposed to the elements he felt warm and dry standing outside. However, it was the rest of the room that had elicited his response. There was a spray of water and a pile of drachmas for Iris messaging, his favorite suit of Greek armor from camp, a white, gold, and blue pegasus chariot (even though Harry was unsure of where he was supposed to find a pegasus), and an entire wall of bookshelves filled with his favorite books from camp. Taking a drachma and tossing it into the rainbow made by the falling water he said,

"Please accept this offering, Iris, goddess of the rainbow, and show me Chiron, at Camp Half-Blood."

-oO0o0Oo-

Neville opened the door to his room and was immediately reminded of the greenhouse at Longbottom Manor. In design, it was practically the same as Harry's. The walls were a light sage green, and all the woodwork a dark mahogany. The carpets were a light beige, while the bedspread, curtains, armchairs and sofas were a dark forest green. At one window there was a nice terrarium for Trevor, who was ribbitting happily. At every other window there were lush potted plants in white earthenware pots, so he almost didn't notice a suit of armor matching Harry's next to the armoire. He wondered on how the makers were able to acquire so much dragon hide and was tempted to try it on, but he decided to explore what lay at the top of the stairs first.

At the top the air was damp and warm, and Neville was surprised but happy to find an extensive greenhouse. The walls were entirely made of glass facing the outside, allowing plenty of sunlight to stream in. There was every sort of magical and non-magical plant imaginable, vines climbing the walls, flowers and fruits hanging from the ceiling, and various others sprouting in layers of gardening beds and rich, dark soil. Next to the door hung an extensive array of gardening tools and equipment, and there was a large collection of books explaining how to properly care for each and every plant present in the greenhouse. Pulling on a pair of comfortable gardening gloves and grabbing a watering can, Neville immersed himself caring for the plant life that surrounded him.

-oO0o0Oo-

Hermione thought that she would be content to spend the rest of her life in this room. Although she had the same furniture arrangement as Harry and Neville, the entire walls were covered in red-tinted cherry-wood bookshelves, completely obscuring whatever wall color lay underneath. Her bedcovers, curtains, sofas, and chairs were a deep red, and the carpets were the color of yellowed paper. She admired the armor before continuing up the stairs.

The room she saw at the top of the stairs only cemented her previous feelings. Bookshelves on the walls were packed with her favorite muggle stories, there was modern flat-screen television surrounded by sofas and chairs in the same style as the ones downstairs, stacks upon stacks of board games and an entire cabinet that seemed to contain every movie ever made. There was even a small, modern kitchen, complete with cupboards fully stocked, a fridge containing her favorite foods, and a microwave. Grabbing some popcorn, she started watching one of her favorite movies: Star Wars: A New Hope.

-oO0o0Oo-

Dumbledore paced in his office, loose papers disturbed by the force of his angry magic. Fawkes screeched, concerned but Dumbledore ignored it. How could his carefully planned scheme go so horribly wrong? Any scope of influence he had hoped to have on the boy was torn to shreds, leaving only scraps for him to manipulate. He had interrogated the hat repeatedly, but it would not answer his questions. What was a champion of Hogwarts? How was the castle alive? What powers could influence the boy without him knowing of it? The only thing certain now was that Harry was powerful, and was making powerful friends. He needed to get close to the boy before things got out of hand.

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

The Hogwarts year begins in earnest next chapter.

Thanks for your reviews!


	12. Assignments and Invitations

Hermione woke to the loud, clashing sound of metal on metal, a jumble of noise similar someone playing the drums on metal pots. Stumbling bleary eyed down the stairs, she found Neville and Harry sparring in what she called the "Training Room".

"You do realize that it is not even six in the morning?" she said, yawning.

"A warrior does not choose when a battle will take place," Harry said, easily disarming Neville and for a moment putting a stop to the noise, "Which reminds me, you need to learn how to use a sword. Suit up and come join us."

By the time they had stopped practicing due to it being time for breakfast, Hermione regretted not packing adequate exercise clothes, as wizard robes were not conducive to wielding swords, and for not putting enough effort into PE beforehand. Harry was a wonderful teacher, patient and knowledgeable, but even though she had only used a wooden practice sword and learned a few simple sword fighting techniques, she felt totally exhausted. Even Neville, who had only picked up a sword a few weeks before, was already much more capable than she was. She was not going to be left behind while the boys went on a mission. She knew she had to tackle this problem as she had any other: by outworking the competition. By the time winter break came around, she was determined to be as capable with a sword as Neville.

-oO0o0Oo-

The Fat Friar visited them while they were eating breakfast in the Living Room to hand out their schedules. Harry couldn't help but be excited for his first day of learning magic, but was worried about the backlash his actions could have caused. The ghost interrupted his somber train of thoughts.

"Well, you've got first period Transfiguration with the Gryffindors, then History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs, and after lunch you have Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins and Charms with the Ravenclaws."

"Isn't History of Magic taught by a ghost?" Neville asked, curious.

"Yes," the Fat Friar answered, sounding less than enthused, "By Professor Binns."

"You don't seem to like him," Hermione noted. Harry was impressed. Anything Hermione lacked in physical prowess was definitely made up for in her mental capabilities. The girl was observant and had a mind that was razor sharp.

"Well, I'm sure you'll all understand why once you meet him," the Friar said, sighing, "Enjoy your first day." The ghostly message reminded Harry of the events that had transpired late last night…

Harry was just finishing Iris messaging Chiron when Sir Nicholas floated up through the floor. Turing toward the visitor, Harry tried to hide the dissipating message from view while appearing nonchalant.

"You don't have to hide that from me," the ghost said, gesturing to the spray of water, "Hogwarts knows your backstory." Harry was unsure if he was supposed to feel relived or a tad creeped out that a sentient building knew his entire history. Knowing it was futile, he gave up on trying to obscure the fountain from view.

"How?" Harry asked, suspicious.

"You're not the first to have come from Camp Half-Blood," Sir Nicholas said frankly, "Although it has been a while. When a magical baby is born, Hogwarts records their name and constantly updates their address. Its how the letters are sent to the right people, although the Camp's recently updated wards kept yours from getting in. Besides, Hogwarts does have its own oracle." Harry looked at the ghost, his skepticism clear.

"Apollo wouldn't have two oracles at once," he said, thinking of what Chiron had told him about the Sun God.

"No, he would have five," the ghost mused, "But you're right, she's not a true oracle, that was her great-great-grandmother Cassandra, however, her magical abilities have strengthened her "Sight" so she can produce accurate prophecies frequently, albeit without her control. Once spoken, she can never remember what she has foretold. Which reminds me of the reason of my visit."

"Yes?" Harry asked, still puzzling over the ghost's comment that Apollo had five oracles, but he put it aside.

"You haven't told Neville and Hermione your secrets," said Sir Nicholas, holding up a hand to silence Harry's defensive remark, "You know as well as I that in a battle a legion must act as a cohesive whole. That can't happen when one does not trust the others enough to tell them simple facts about yourself." Harry hung his head, abashed, recognizing the truth in the deceased knight's words. "Hogwarts will not stand for it," the ghost continued, "But recognizes that if you do not know everything about yourself, then how could you share it with others?" Harry looked up then, surprised, but the ghost didn't falter. "As such, she gives you two tasks. Firstly, pay Trelawney a visit and ask for a prophecy, then listen and remember to what she says. Secondly, wear the Sorting Hat. It won't sort you, if that's what your worried about. Dumbledore keeps it in his Headmaster's office, which you won't have a problem gaining access to because he will undoubtedly invite you to visit him." Harry was about to ask why he was supposed to be doing any of this, but the ghost held up a hand to silence him. "I can't answer your questions because I don't know the answers to them. Only Hogwarts does. Do as she says." And with that, Sir Nicholas departed, leaving Harry stunned and alone in his room….

"Are you all right Harry?" Neville asked, concerned. Harry realized that as he was reminiscing he had stopped with a spoon full of cereal halfway to his mouth. Nodding to Neville, he brought himself back to the present and finished his cereal.

-oO0o0Oo-

They each stood in front of their respective doors, dressed in their purple robes and wearing their sword. Neville remembered that was one of the first things Harry had said when he was teaching him how sword fight, that a warrior never leaves his weapon behind. He couldn't help but feel nervous, this wasn't the circumstances he had envisioned when he had imagined first coming to Hogwarts, although the wonderful accommodations were definitely a plus. Certainly better than the Slytherin dorms, he had heard that because it was under the lake, water always dripped from the ceiling.

"Its time," said Hermione, failing to keep the nerves completely out of her voice.

"It'll be fine," said Harry, reassuringly, "Its only McGonagall, right?" Both Neville and Hermione looked at each other dubiously. Neville knew his nervousness would only get worse the longer he stood there. Taking a deep breath, he nodded his head to Harry, thought hard of Transfiguration, and stepped through the door.

The passageway let him out just behind McGonagall's desk, and Neville was thankful that only a few students were already at there desks. The gaping stares of those who were there was enough to convince him that it was not going to be normal day. McGonagall turned to find out what was causing the disturbance, and although surprise flickered in her eyes, it was gone in an instant. Harry nodded at her, and then sat down at a desk in the front row. Neville and Hermione both followed his lead, at least this way other people wouldn't have to turn their heads to stare at them.

-oO0o0Oo-

As soon as the last of the bumbling Gryffindors had stumbled through the doors, McGonagall began the lesson. Harry smiled as the rest of the classed oohed and ahhed over her animagus transformation. He hoped that McGonagall approved of his actions, she was the closest thing to a mother he had ever had. He did not want to disappoint her, and the very least he could do was to not fail her class. He threw himself into trying to turn his match into a needle, and at the end of the lesson, he felt genuine pride when it had turned silver and pointy and McGonagall gave him a small smile of approval. Perhaps becoming an animagi himself was not too far out of reach.

The next two class periods failed to meet Harry's expectations. Professor Binns spoke in a droning monotone, lecturing about facts that were entirely untrue based on the information Harry had read in the History textbook. Most of the students slept at their desks or talked in whispers, and Binns didn't seem to care. Harry and Hermione spent the entire class period helping Neville practice his Transfigurations, during Transfiguration he had managed to give the match pointed ends but had failed to change anything else. However, by the time Binns had wrapped up his lecture Neville was able to give the match a silver sheen. Defense Against the Dark Arts was no better. Harry had been looking forward to this class, even if he was unsure about Quirrell. However, Quirrell seemed to be afraid of his own shadow, and stuttered so hard that no one could understand what he was lecturing about. To make matters worse, the whole class period the lightning shaped marks on his palms felt like they were being pricked with needles. Harry resigned himself to teaching himself out of the textbooks for the two classes, as he clearly wasn't going to be learning anything useful otherwise.

Charms, however, was extremely interesting. Professor Flitwick was tiny, however, even without being able to see his aura Harry would be able to tell that he was clearly an accomplished wizard, making his desk zoom around the room with no apparent effort. Eager to try something similar, Harry was disappointed when Flitwick told them that they wouldn't be learning Levitation charms until several weeks later, and they would only be practicing with feathers. Not deterred however, Harry resolved to practice on his own whenever possible. The real surprise came, however, as they were leaving the classroom and found Headmaster Dumbledore waiting for them.

"Headmaster," Harry said, warily.

"Harry, my dear boy," Dumbledore said, "How are you? Enjoying your first day?"

"Well enough," Harry replied, evenly. The man clearly wanted something.

"Quite a surprise what you did yesterday," said the Headmaster, "You were the first, you know, to ever refuse to be sorted."

"I gathered that," Harry said, wishing the man would stop beating around the bush.

"Yes, I imagine you have," he said, staring at Harry through his half-moon glasses.

"Is there a reason for this visit?" Harry said, done waiting for the man to play his games.

"Of course," said Dumbledore, a hint of steel entering his voice, "A Champion of Hogwarts must have many things to do."

"Indeed," Harry said, voice growing sharper.

"Well, if you have the time, I was hoping we could continue this chat in my office," Dumbledore said, "On Saturday, perhaps?" Harry knew that this was the real reason for the man's visit, remembering that Sir Nicholas had told him something like this might occur. He had planned to visit Trelawney on Saturday, so this was perfect. He could chat with Dumbledore, then complete the second of Hogwart's tasks and wear the Sorting Hat. But he wasn't going to let the man off that easy.

"My fellow knights and I had plans," Harry said.

"Well, of course they could come too," Dumbledore said immediately. Harry noticed that Dumbledore had failed to address Neville or Hermione directly, even though they were standing right next to him. Cleary he was the one the Headmaster was after, and Harry made a mental note of it. If you knew what an enemy wanted, you had the advantage in battle. Tired of this conversation, Harry relented.

"Saturday, then," Harry said, turning on his heel and walking away, Neville and Hermione close behind.

"But you don't know the password!" The headmaster called after them. Harry didn't stop. Hogwarts would let them in.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

Now things are starting to get more interesting.

Thanks for your reviews!


	13. A Cursed Broom

Neville stood, squinting in the morning sun, his socks getting slowly soaked from the dew covered grass. The rowdy Gryffindor's standing opposite him, Harry, and Hermione seemed to be only excited for their first flying lesson, but Neville did not join in the celebrations. Several instances with Uncle Algie hanging him out of a second story window had given him an unfortunate fear of heights, and as such he had stayed as far away from a broom as possible. Now, however, there was no avoiding it. Harry, noticing his anxiety, gave him a reassuring smile, but it did little to improve his mood. It was hardly surprising that when Harry called his broom to his hand, it seemed to jump eagerly into his grasp, yet his stayed firmly on the ground, apparently noting his absolute terror at taking to the skies. Although Hermione didn't succeed on the first try, after a few attempts her broom reluctantly floated up to meet her hand. Eventually he picked the broom up at Madam Hooch's instructions, and straddled it in preparation for taking off. His palms were sweaty against the smooth wood handle and a bead of nervous perspiration slid down the side of his. At the sound of Madam Hooch's instruction to take off after her count, nervous adrenaline flooded his body. It followed that it was a natural reaction that when his broom suddenly shot into the skies he let out a small scream.

-oO0o0Oo-

Harry knew he had never touched a broom before in his life, but he also knew his friend was in trouble.

"Catch us if we fall!" he said to Hermione, then kicked off hard from the ground. The pure elation that filled him as he soared upward compared to nothing he had yet experience, and with joy he found that he knew how to fly as if he had been doing it all his life. Had Neville's broom not have suddenly started to violently try to shake him off, Harry would have loved to spend as much time aloft as possible, but he fixed his sights on Neville's broom, now rapidly speeding toward the trees of the Forbidden Forest, and shot after it.

He caught up to Neville when the broom had come to sharp stop, sending Neville over the front and had he not caught the handle with one hand, would have surely sent him into the sharp branches of the trees below. Pulling alongside his dangling friend, Harry tried to pull him onto his broom, but Neville's broom would jerk Neville out of his hands. Harry knew there was only one thing to do. Getting as close to the violent broom as he could, he reached up and grabbed it with both hands, using pure strength and willpower to stabilize it for a moment.

"Neville, get on my broom, quickly!" He said, through gritted teeth. Although frightened, Neville made it safely next Harry when the broom suddenly pulled Harry off and shot skyward, leaving a horrified Neville below. The rapid ascent knocked Harry's glasses off, and for the first time he noticed a dark aura around the broom, with a rope made of shadow leading into the trees below. Holding on with one hand, Harry drew his sword and sliced through the shadowy rope and the broom ceased trying to shake him off. Sheathing his sword, he managed to get on top of the broom and guide it back to the slowly descending Neville, who smiled up at him in relief.

"Thank you, Harry" he said, "I don't know what happened, the broom moved without my direction."

"A knight always defends his comrades," Harry replied, and then grew serious, "But something sinister is going on and I have no intention of it finding any more innocent victims."

They had only just made it safely back to the ground when out of the crowd of observers strode Professor McGonagall, Hermione trailing in her wake.

"Potter, Longbottom, Granger, my office, now!" she said, her tone of voice making it abundantly clear that there would be no protesting.

-oO0o0Oo-

The glare McGonagall was giving Harry from across her desk was so intense that it seemed that the temperature of the room raised several degrees. Hermione was glad that she wasn't the object of such attentions, but she wished she had been able to do something when Neville's broom suddenly took off. She felt honored that Harry had trusted her to save them if something went awry, but she didn't want to just watch from the sidelines for the rest of her life. Hogwarts had chosen her too, it was high time she honed her skills enough to be worthy of that choice. She could see a lot of broomstick, spell work, and swordplay practice in her future.

"What in the world were you thinking?" McGonagall raged, "Charging off foolhardily. You've never even touched a broom before! You should have trusted Madam Hooch to do something about it."

"As Champion of Hogwarts, I have as much right as any of the staff to protect my classmates," Harry said, getting angry now, "What would you have liked me to do? Stand and watch as my first friend gets put in a dangerous situation?"

"You know as well as I do that an inexperienced attempt to help can do more harm than good," McGonagall retorted, "And why didn't you tell me of your whole plan to denounce Hogwarts tradition? I care about you, Harry, and I've never seen Dumbledore so angry. I swear I thought he would fire me on the spot when I said I supported your choice." That drew Harry up short, Hermione could see. She realized that he wasn't used to anyone sticking up for him. His anger drained out of his expression, and then he and Neville crumpled to the floor.

"Harry! Neville!" Hermione cried, kneeling beside them as McGonagall rushed from behind her desk, "Are you all right?"

"Something is wrong," Harry said through gritted teeth, face rapidly draining of color, "Help Neville." Neville's eyes had rolled into the back of his head and he was starting to shake.

"We need to get them to the infirmary wing," Hermione said to McGonagall, who was already levitating the injured boys off the floor.

"It's on the opposite side of the castle," McGonagall said grimly, "We may not make it. Check on their condition while we run." Hermione knew she could not loose her friends. Drawing herself up, she faced the wall and shouted,

"Hogwarts, your champions are in trouble. We need a passageway to the infirmary now!" For a moment, nothing happened, and Hermione's heart dropped to her feet. Then a door appeared from nowhere, and Sir Nicholas gestured them into it.

"Hurry," he said, serious, but Hermione and McGonagall had already taken off down the passageway. They burst out of a wall back into the light, startling Madam Pomfrey, although she quickly regained her senses when she saw the condition of Harry and Neville.

"What happened, Minerva?" she said, grabbing several potions while McGonagall guided the boys onto a pair of beds.

"I wasn't there to witness it," said McGonagall, rushing towards the door, "Hermione, explain the story to Madam Pomfrey while I notify the Headmaster."

"I need to know what happened in order to treat them," said the nurse, summoning a curtain around the beds while checking their pulses. Hermione recounted the story while Pomfrey's expression grew more and more serious.

"The broom behaved as if it was cursed," Hermione said, finishing the story, "But I didn't see the caster."

"Only powerful dark magic could have caused these symptoms," the nurse said, "Quick, grab me a bezoar and a unicorn horn from the supply cabinet while I stabilize their conditions." Hermione had just handed the nurse the requested ingredients when a black robed man with a hooked nose and greasy hair swept into the room, whom Hermione recognized to be Professor Snape. He was followed by Professor McGonagall, who seemed to be simultaneously angry and exasperated.

"I see the Potter brat has managed to get himself in trouble already," Snape drawled, moving to stand by Pomfrey's side.

"This is no time to hold a grudge, Severus," McGonagall snapped, "You're the most experienced in Dark Magic in the castle at the moment, so do your job." Snape sneered, but he waved his wand at the two boys whilst inspecting their condition.

"Encase their hands with bandages soaked in a mixture of powdered unicorn horn, Essence of Dittany, and phoenix ash," Snape ordered, "Minerva, get Fawkes. I'll contact Dumbledore."

"I already did that," McGonagall grumbled as she exited once again.

"Powder this unicorn horn," the nurse said while preparing the bandages. They had just finished wrapping the boys' hands when McGonagall entered with a brilliant red and gold bird on her shoulder.

"You know what to do, Fawkes," said Pomfrey. Hermione might have imagined it, but the phoenix seemed to nod in agreement before flying to Harry's nightstand, dripping its tears into the provided bowl. The nurse quickly poured the liquid down the boys' throats before stepping back and wiping her forehead.

"That's the best we can do for them now," she said, moving toward the door, "At least their condition seems to have stabilized. Minerva, watch these two while I go get some more Dittany leaves from Pomona." The door had just closed behind the nurse when McGonagall quickly strode to Harry's bedside, taking a vial of golden liquid from her pocket.

"Don't speak of this to anyone," the professor warned, then poured half the vial into Harry's mouth. As Hermione watched, Harry's body began to glow gold, growing brighter and brighter until it disappeared in a flash of blinding light.

-oO0o0Oo-

Harry opened his eyes to find himself in unfamiliar surroundings, lying it what appeared to be a hospital bed, hands newly bandaged. He could feel familiar feeling of warmth spreading inside him from recently ingesting nectar, but otherwise, he felt normal. He wondered why he was in a hospital if he wasn't injured. Turning his head to the side, he noticed Neville sleeping in a bed next to his, hands similarly bandaged. Realization crashed over him in a wave, he remembered collapsing in McGonagall's office, and then, nothing. He started to try and get out of bed when,

"I wouldn't try that if I were you," said a familiar voice. McGonagall, Harry realized. "We had just stabilized your condition."

"What happened?" Harry asked, voice hoarse.

"We're not quite sure," the witch said, coming to sit at the end of his bed, "We think Neville's broom had been cursed with Dark Magic, infecting the two of you when you touched it. I gave you nectar, and here we are." Sensing his unasked question, she gave him the answer he wanted to hear, "We're alone at the moment."

"I saw a shadowy aura around the broom," Harry said, still alert for unwanted eavesdroppers, "With a similar rope leading into the Forbidden Forest. When I cut it, the broom ceased to act violently."

"We've never had someone who senses magic like you do," said McGongall thoughtfully, "But I feel that your description backs up our previous hypotheses. We should do tests to see what other spells look like."

"Where did you get the nectar?" Harry asked, relaxing back into the pillows.

"Chiron gave it to me before we left camp, for emergencies," she said, "Although I think I may have over did it."

"I only need small amounts because of my history with it," Harry said ruefully, "But considering the circumstances, a little extra couldn't have hurt."

"My thoughts exactly," she agreed.

"Will Neville be alright?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Madam Pomfrey has every confidence he will recover," McGonagall reassured him, "But it will take him longer than you to purge the cursed material from his system. I considered giving him nectar as well, but I figured I should consult you beforehand."

"Don't give nectar to anyone else," Harry said, gravely serious, "It will literally burn them up from the inside. Where is Hermione?"

"In your quarters, I presume," she replied, "The headmaster canceled the rest of classes for today in light of your recent mishaps. Speaking of which, she saw me give you the nectar."

"What!?" Harry shouted.

"Shhhh! Madam Pomfrey will kick me out if she thinks I'm hurting your recovery," the witch said, nonplussed, "And really Harry, you have to trust your friends. Without Hermione's help, I don't think either of you would have made it." They sat in silence for a moment, and then Harry's thoughts drifted to his previous conversation with McGonagall, and how her words had affected him.

"Did you mean what you said?" Harry asked, quietly, "Before all of this?" She sat silently for a moment, but when she looked at him, her eyes were filled with warmth.

"When I first saw you, Harry, taking down a pack of monsters with a lightning bolt, I knew there was something special about you," she said, "And I don't mean your powers. Putting your life on the line to defend those around you, that was what I admired. And then I talked with you, and you were eager to learn about magic, throwing yourself into this new world, making friends along the way. You remind me of my late husband in that way." A touch of grief colored her voice with those words. "And you reminded me of what my life might have been, if things had been different. But the truth is Harry, I do care for you. And I'm not the only ones. Your friends want to help you, and so do I. You can't do everything by yourself." Tears began to well in Harry's eyes as McGonagall reached out and held one of his bandaged hands. For the first time in his life, Harry felt like he had a mother.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

Apologies for the late update, I wanted to post this earlier but didn't have the time.

Thanks for reading!


	14. Pomfrey and Potions

Neville woke slowly, his blurry vision sluggishly coming into focus to reveal the hospital wing. His head ached, and his entire body felt like it was being pricked by needles. He realized that his hands were bandaged, and wondered when that had happened.

"Good, you're awake," a kindly female voice said, "I was beginning to get worried." A nurse witch was standing by his bedside. Neville tried to sit up, ask what had happened, but she gently pushed him back into the pillows. "Don't get up yet, your body's still weak. I'll go tell Minerva you're awake; your grandmother has been worried about you." The nurse left and Neville thought he was alone, but then a voice came from the bed next to him.

"You alright there, Neville?" The voice was familiar, but it took Neville a moment to recognize it as Harry's. Why was Harry in the hospital wing?

"What happened?" Neville croaked, throat hoarse.

"The broom was cursed," Harry said seriously, "We both passed out because our skin touched it. McGonagall said it could have been much worse." Neville's confusion disappeared with a thunderclap, and his memories came flooding back.

"Who cursed it?" he asked, sitting up and examining his bandaged hands. He saw that Harry's were similarly bandaged. "Hogwarts is supposed to be one of, if not the, safest place in Britain."

"I don't know," Harry said, solemnly, looking a lot better than Neville felt, although he already felt much improved, "I heard Dumbledore was enraged that something like this could have happened. The entire staff is searching the grounds for the perpetrator, and all classes have been suspended for the day."

"Well, at least we won't have to deal with Snape," Neville said, relieved, "Where's Hermione?"

"In our quarters, I suspect," Harry said, shrugging, "Pomfrey hasn't allowed any visitors."

"Did someone say my name?" Startled, Neville turned toward the source of the voice to find Hermione stepping out of a door that he was sure hadn't been there before.

"Bloody hell, you scared me!" Neville said, smiling, "But I'm glad to see you safe."

"Me too," Harry seconded, "McGonagall said we have you to thank for our speedy recovery."

"I wouldn't say that," Hermione said, dismissively, but Neville could tell that she was grateful for it, "I only asked Hogwarts for a passage here."

"Thereby saving our lives," Neville added. Hermione shrugged, but he knew she was pleased. The trio sat in companionable silence for a moment, glad to be safe and together once more. But then, Hermione asked the question that was on all of their minds.

"So, what now?" she asked.

"We keep fighting," Harry said, determined.

"Hogwarts gave us a mission," Neville agreed, "And we won't let her down."

When Pomfrey returned, they were able to convince her that they were well enough to return to their quarters. She finally relented when they promised her that they wouldn't do anything strenuous and they would come back if they felt any worse. Hermione opened the passage to their quarters right from the hospital wing, and they spent the rest of the day recovering and reading about curses and dark spells in their quarter's extensive library. Later that night, as Neville climbed up the stairs to his quarters, he noticed a floor that he was sure hadn't been there before. It was a large, open space, with what appeared to be an aerial obstacle course by one wall. On a rack by the door was three brand new Nimbus 2000s.

-oO0o0Oo-

The next day dawned somberly. The teachers hadn't caught the culprit of yesterday's attac and so students traveling in the halls had to be accompanied by a teacher or prefect. McGonagall had made it her personal mission to watch of Harry and his friends, only leaving their side when they had successfully and safely made it to the greenhouses where their first Herbology lesson was taking place. Neville seemed to be in his element, and Harry was glad that his friend had recovered well. Although both of their hands were still bandaged, McGonagall with the aid of Madam Pomfrey had cast a spell allowing them full mobility, saving them a great deal of trouble. Hermione seemed a bit fatigued, she hadn't gotten used to the morning sparring sessions, but she looked like she was enjoying herself while helping a bewildered Hufflepuff re-pot his plant. Ever since his conversation with McGonagall, Harry had felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He was used to carrying his own burden, but now he had friends so close they were practically family to help him along the way. Professor Sprout wasn't the only one to notice his constant small smile.

The dark, damp, and dreary dungeons were a startling opposite to the warm and sunlight filled greenhouses. He, Neville and Hermione had picked a group of tables near the back at Neville's insistence, he seemed entirely terrified of the Potions Master, Severus Snape. Harry wondered what could have made Neville act this way when he hadn't even taken a potions class yet.

"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class," a smooth silky voice slipped out of the shadows and immediately the class became silent. The only other teacher capable of commanding such respect in a single sentence was McGonagall, but Harry could tell Snape was different. The voice was followed by a greasy haired man with a hooked nose and sallow skin, standing like a poisonous viper in black robes. Harry frowned, Snape's aura was powerful, but it was dark, writhing shadows, it seemed almost familiar. Snape carried on with his introduction while Harry tried to remember where he had seen such an aura. He was so lost in thought that he didn't realize Snape was staring right at him until Neville elbowed him in the ribs. Cursing himself for being so lax in his defense, Harry realized that Snape had said something.

"Could you repeat that, sir," Harry asked.

"Harry Potter, our new, celebrity," Snape drawled with a sneer. Harry bristled. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"A powerful sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death," Harry answered, remembering it from one of the textbooks.

"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Snape snapped. Harry realized that Snape was trying to make him mess up. Not backing down, Harry stared him right in the eyes as he answered.

"In the stomach of a goat, it will cure you of most poisons" Harry said, adding the extra information to see Snape's reaction.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Snape asked, voice low and dangerous. Harry wondered why Snape disliked him so much. He hadn't even brewed a potion yet.

"They are the same plant, which is also known as aconite," Harry answered. The room fell silent for a moment as Snape glared at him, searching for something wrong with his answer but coming up fruitless. Like a cobra coiling back after a strike, Snape drew himself up and tucked his hands into the sleeves of his black robes.

"Fame isn't everything, Potter," Snape hissed, "You'd best remember it in this class. Next time I catch you not paying attention I will not be so lenient." Snape strode back to his desk, saying "Today we will be brewing a Boil-Cure Potion, any mistakes will be severely punished. You have one hour."

The rest of the lesson was spent brewing their potions, both Harry and Hermione managed well and even Neville was able to provide helpful insight. Although terrified of Snape, his expansive knowledge of plants was of use determining which way was the best to crush Venomous Tentacula leaves and other ingredients. However, when Snape came around to check on their cauldrons at the end of the lessons, Neville's began to smoke uncontrollably.

"Foolish boy!" Snape snarled, vanishing the potion, "What stupidity must you posses to have added too much porcupine quills?! I will not tolerate idiocy in this classroom! Out!" Harry felt his anger welling up inside him. Neville had done nothing wrong that Harry could see, and Hermione would have been sure to correct any mistakes. Besides, the punishment was very extreme for the "crime" of adding too much of a certain ingredient. Then, Snape turned to him. "And you, Potter! Why didn't you help him? Were you cheating when I asked you those questions earlier? Or perhaps you thought it would make you look better if he failed? Leave, the both of you! I will inform the headmaster of your incompetence." Harry's anger boiled over. To call his friend an idiot and throw Neville out of the classroom was bad enough, but now Snape was throwing him out as well, for doing nothing except standing next to Neville. He rose to his full height, drawing his sword as he did so and pointing it directly at Snape.

"What did you say?" Harry said, staring Snape directly in the eyes, his voice low and dangerous.

"Are you challenging me, Potter?" Snape said, his eyes bottomless pits, slipping his wand from his sleeve.

"Harry don't!" Hermione cried, "He could get you expelled!"

"This man," Harry said, enraged, "Has insulted my friend and myself on pure whim. A warrior defends his friends."  
"But, Harry, you're a knight!" Hermione said, insistently, "Don't do this!"

"A knight stands by his comrades," Harry responded, determined, "Are you ready, Snape?" Harry asked disgustedly.

"Very," Snape responded. Waving his wand, the desks, cauldrons, and students were pushed to the back of the class room, leaving him and Snape alone. Drawing his wand in his left hand, Harry crouched in a defensive stance. He was not disappointed. Snape fired off a powerful barrage of attacks from his wand, unleashing a rainbow of deadly colors. Harry blocked them all with the blade of his sword. Snape's eyes narrowed. Casting aside his glasses, Harry charged at Snape, using the full levels of his speed, in his anger forgetting to hide his abilities. Slashing at Snape's wand arm, he was blocked at the last moment by an invisible barrier. Snape in Harry stood, locked in their attacks for a moment when with a sound like breaking glass the barrier fell. However, the brief stalling of his sword had given Snape just enough time to dodge Harry's blade. Harry snarled, his anger mounting, slashing with unhindered fury at his foe. Weaving a net of deadly silver, Snape was unable to escape. Just when Harry thought victory was imminent, Snape's eye's locked with his own. An unbearable pain burst behind his eyes, and he cried out as he fell to his knees. Harry's most painful memories passed before his eyes, each one worst than the last. He, a young boy, his head about to be shoved into a toilet by an Ares camper. Looking for friends and finding none. Year after year training alone. No god or goddess ever claiming him. A hellhound, prepared to tear out his throat. A fury, lifting the young camper skyward. And on it on it went, the pain mounting until he felt as if he was getting burned up from the inside. And then a final memory surfaced. A woman's face, somehow strangely familiar, eyes distressed, looking at him through the bars of a crib, then turning away. The woman hastily piled the room's furniture against the door in a flimsy barricade. Drawing her wand, the woman shielded Harry with her body as the door exploded. A hooded dark robed figure stepped through the smoking crater.

"Step aside foolish woman, I want you to see the light leave your son's eyes before I kill you," the figure hissed.

"No not Harry, please not Harry, kill me instead," the woman begged. His mother, Harry realized. Then the room exploded into green light. The scene cleared, the room a smoking ruin, and his mother lying cold and still, the dark figure no where to be found. Harry knew that he had just watched his mother die. Then it was gone.

Harry came to lying on the dungeon floor.

"What is the meaning of this?" McGonagall had arrived.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

Sorry for the late update. Next chapter should come quicker.

Thanks for your reviews!


	15. Professors and Prophets

The sound of ringing metal interspersed with the occasional thud echoed through their tower quarters. Sweat dripped from Hermione's brow, the tiny sphere of water tracked down her forehead, then fell through the air to land with a splash on her hand. Breathing heavily, she continued to assault the enchanted wooden training dummy before her. Neville was elsewhere, so she was without a sparring partner. Part of her was glad he was gone, she wanted to prove to herself that she could this all on her own. It was the second time as many days that classes had been canceled because of her and her friends. Recalling the Potions lesson, Hermione couldn't help but shiver. Harry was frightening in that fight, as devoid of emotion as a statue, a ruthless killing machine. She knew that if she was to ever fight beside him and Neville, she would have to reach that level of skill. But what scared her even more was Snape. While Harry had been fast, Snape had been faster. True, Snape wasn't lugging around a ten-pound hunk of silver, but he had blocked every one of Harry's attacks with cruel efficiency. And then, once Harry had broken through his shield, he had dropped Harry to his knees with a single look. At that point Hermione had run for McGonagall, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Snape had been holding back the whole time. Harry too, for that matter.

In the brief moment of her reminiscing, the dummy swung its sword and managed to disarm her. The sword fell to the ground with a clatter. Hermione stood there for a moment, panting. Her muscles ached, and this early morning workout schedule had left her short on sleep. Drawing in a deep breath, she bent down, picked up her sword, and attacked the dummy again.

-oO0o0Oo-

Neville stood there, panting. Unable to sleep, he had crept out of bed early, and headed downstairs. He had been planning to practice his Transfiguration, but then he had noticed the brooms Hogwarts had provided. Asking for a few embellishments to the new floor, Hogwarts had delivered, creating a wide open area covered in padding, with airborne platforms and obstacles. The Potions lesson was the second time that Harry had been helping him. He knew he hadn't messed up the potion recipe, but suddenly his potion had begun acting strangely. Had he been sabotaged? Either way, the least he could do to repay Harry would be to start helping himself, and that began with getting over his fear of heights. Grasping his broom handle once again, he launched upwards.

-oO0o0Oo-

Harry had awakened once again in the Hospital Wing, which was rapidly becoming way too familiar. The last thing he had remembered before passing out once again was McGonagall bending over him as he lay on the classroom floor. Now that he thought about it, how had Snape been able to fell him with a single gaze? Those horrible memories that Snape had brought to the surface flashed in front of his eyes once again. Of being hurt and rejected, of the overwhelming sense of grief, anger, and helplessness as he watched his mother die. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see that blinding flash of green. Cold, angry, murderous purpose welled up inside him. Even if it cost him his life, he would kill Voldemort and avenge his parents.

The door to the hospital wing swung open, and in stepped McGonagall, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey.

"Poppy, for goodness sake, I'm a teacher, and his "Head of House", so to speak," McGonagall said exasperatedly. Clearly Pomfrey was not happy about this visit. "I'm not going to hurt him." Harry smiled inwardly. Pomfrey grumbled, but acquiesced, leaving him and McGonagall alone.

"Are you all right?" she asked, coming to his bedside. Harry could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

"Yes," he said, automatically. She looked at him sternly. "Well, not really."

"Tell me what happened." So he did, recounting everything, how Snape had quizzed him at the beginning of class, how everything had been going well until Neville's potion started acting up, how Snape had thrown Neville out, and finally his duel with Snape. He even told her about seeing his mother die. As he finished recounting the story, he could see unshed tears in McGonagall's eyes.

"Oh, Harry," she said softly, then she bent down and gave him a long hug. Wrapped by her arms, the sorrow that he had been carrying seemed to melt away. Then McGonagall withdrew and started pacing angrily.

"That Severus! Bloody hell, using Legilimency on one of his own students! What was he thinking, trying to kick you two out!" Harry interrupted her tirade.

"What is Legilimency?" He asked, curiously,

"A form of a mental attack, the user locks eyes with their victim and invades their mind, doing what they please," as McGonagall explained, she seemed to get even more furious. "It can be used to stir up horrible memories, or turning a victim's own mind against them, planting false information, even. For these reasons it is highly dangerous and borderline illegal. To think he used it on you! Perhaps I can arrange for Occlumency for you three so that you will be able to defend yourselves if this is ever to happen again."

"Why does Snape hate me so much?" Harry said, quietly. McGonagall looked at him sympathetically.

"He and your father were classmates," she said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "And they never got along well. Perhaps when he looks at you, he sees your father."

They sat in silence for a moment, enjoying each others company. McGonagall suddenly stood up straight.

"Oh! I almost forgot," she said turning to him, "Dumbledore has summoned you and your friends to his office. Immediately."

-oO0o0Oo-

The passage let them out behind Dumbledore's desk, into a large tower office filled with countless machines and knickknacks. Hermione was sure that they had to have some use, but she didn't have any idea what. Dumbledore turned to greet them, his eyes serious behind his half-moon glasses.

"Please, sit," the headmaster said, gesturing to a trio of chairs he had just summoned. He continued once she and the boys had sat (and respectfully declined his offer of a lemon drop). "As I am sure you all are aware, your position is unprecedented in Hogwart's history, so you'll have to forgive some of my shortcomings." The professor's eyes were trained on Harry's. "That being said, it is my duty to support all of the students, and I want you to know that I will support your decisions, if they have basis in truth. Accept this as a token, it was once your father's." Dumbledore handed Harry what appeared to be an average cloak, but Hermione could tell that Harry appreciated it none the less. However, none of this showed when Harry spoke next.

"I thank you for your support," Harry replied, his voice cold, "But I'm not sure how much affect it has had. Under your watch, Neville and I were subjected to powerful Dark magic, and one of your own teachers invaded my mind, forcing me to relive the night my parents died."

"We are doing our best to find the source of the cursed object," Dumbledore said quickly, trying to reassure them, "And as for the other incident, I was told that you provoked him."

"That is not true!" Hermione said, standing up from her chair.

"Snape threw me out of class because I had messed up my potion," Neville said, "And then he threw Harry out as well for not helping me. Harry tried to stand up for us, and they ended up fighting." Dumbledore frowned.

"That wasn't what I was told," he said, "But I must check if this is true."

"Then ask Snape, or any one of the other students yourself," Harry said, "We'll wait for you to come back." Harry was clearly livid that his mind had been compromised under Dumbledore's watch.

"Perhaps you're right," the headmaster said. Hermione could tell that he wanted Harry to make peace with him. "I'll return shortly."

-oO0o0Oo-

As soon as the door shut behind Dumbledore, Harry stood up and grabbed the Sorting Hat off of a nearby shelf.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Neville exclaimed, surprised.

"Hogwarts gave me a mission," Harry replied, and then put the Hat on his head. An unfamiliar, powerful voice sounded through his head.

"You haven't received the prophecy," it said, mildly disapproving.

"I didn't expect to be here so soon," he replied, truthfully, "Although I am sure you already knew that."

"I know of everything within my walls," it said, "Including you, Harry James Potter."  
"What do you know?" Harry asked, curious. Would he finally get answers to his questions.

"Your mother was the brightest witch of her age," it replied, "A master of potions, and, a daughter of Zeus." Harry was glad he was sitting down, otherwise he thought he would have fallen over. To finally have some relation to the place of his childhood was a dream come true. The voice continued, "In her final act of sacrifice, she not only gave you her protection, but some of her powers as well. Although you will never be as powerful as a true child of Zeus, you will have some control over the air and lightning, which will be amplified by your magical powers and wand. You also may find that animals of the air may befriend you. You must master these skills if you are to succeed in the fight against Voldemort." Harry's mind was teeming with information, but the voice didn't stop there. "There are centaurs in the Forbidden forest, seek out Firenze, he will help you with your training. You must also grow competent with all of your weapons, especially your wand and sword. The Sword of Gryffindor is forged by goblins, and as such, can absorb the magical properties of anything it touches. By touching your wand to your sword, you should from then on be able to cast spells with it. Also, inspect the cloak Dumbledore gave you closely, I would not suspect him of giving you anything trivial. He will expect something in return." Harry didn't know how he was going to keep track of all this information, but he had to know the answer to one more question.

"How can I defeat Voldemort?" he said.

"Voldemort is an accomplished dark wizard, as well as the son of Hades and the Prince of the Underworld. Death is a revolving door for him. Be on your guard, surround yourself with allies, and master all the skills that you can. Do so, and you can free the wizarding world of this evil." Harry sat in silence for a moment.

"Can I come back?" he asked.

"Don't worry, I will be here," the voice sounded almost amused, "Now, hear the prophecy, then tell your friends what you have learned. Warriors must trust each other."

"Thank you," Harry said, removing the hat and placing it back on the shelf. Hermione and Neville were looking at him with concerned faces.

"I have a lot to tell you," he said, turning to them, "But first, I need to hear a prophecy."

-oO0o0Oo-

The tower echoed with the professor's words.

When two worlds kept apart collide,

Returns an evil that had died.

And three will fight, and three will fall,

When Heroes wage a fateful brawl.

A dragon, lion, and eagle rise,

To ensure a snake of death's demise.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

Lots of new information!

Thanks for your reviews!


	16. Encounters and Explanations

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when they made it back to the Headmaster's office before Dumbledore had returned. She was in no mood to be answering questions at the moment, she had too many of her own. She knew Harry hadn't told them everything, but then suddenly choosing to wear the Sorting Hat and then running to the opposite side of the castle to hear a prophecy from a slightly insane teacher because Hogwarts had given him a quest was taking things a bit too far. Since being told she was a witch she had learned to accept things that seemed exceptional, but she had her limits. She could tell Neville was as confused as she was, and was about to pester Harry with questions when the Headmaster strode through the entrance to his office, brow furrowed.

"You seem troubled, Headmaster," Hermione said, hoping to smooth over the tense conversations they had had previously.

"I am concerned," Dumbledore said, taking a seat behind his desk, "To find out that one of my own teachers punished a student and then covered it up afterwards."

"So you believe us, then," Neville said, seeming a bit relieved.

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied. "I want to apologize for my previous actions. You must forgive an old man for his traditions blinding him from being able to see what was taking place."

"So long as I know that those traditions are willing to be more flexible in the future," Harry said, not unkindly, "Then I will accept your apology." The twinkle returned to Dumbledore's eyes.

"It seems that you three have had some very disturbing events happen to you recently," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "I am a bit chagrined that Hogwarts' wards were able to be breached so easily."

"I am not so sure that the wards were breached," Hermione said nervously. All eyes in the room turned to her. She took a deep breath and continued. "From what I have read, Hogwarts wards are too strong to allow Dark Magic of that strength to pass through without using a large amount of time or techniques that would have been easily detected. I think it is more likely that the culprit cursed the school broom on the grounds. This would have been much subtler and the wards would not have picked up on Dark Magic practiced on the premises." The others were nodding along to what she was saying and Hermione grew more confident. "I also think that the culprit was specifically targeting one of us, and it would be much easier to ensure that one of us three came into contact with the cursed broom if the culprit was inside the wards."

Dumbledore had grown serious.

"I agree with your assessment, but I am worried for what it means," the Headmaster said somberly, "If the culprit was on the grounds and had evaded the searching of the entire staff including myself, then it means that we have a mole inside Hogwarts."

-oO0o0Oo-

They had regrouped in the Living Room of their quarters after the meeting with Dumbledore, who had dismissed them shortly after the revelation that there was a spy inside Hogwarts. Neville was glad that Dumbledore was in their corner now, the Headmaster was a very powerful opponent and Neville doubted that even Harry could have stood against him. Speaking of which, Harry was keeping something from them, and Neville was determined to get to the bottom of it. He usually let people keep their own secrets, but this was getting out of hand. If they were to be a team, Neville had to know what was truly going on. Hermione, he knew, felt the same way. But before he could open his mouth to ask a question, Harry spoke.

"I haven't been completely honest with you both," he said, staring down at the table, "And for that I am sorry. I haven't been able to trust anyone my whole life, and it is hard to break a habit."

"We're here for you Harry," Neville said, genuinely. Hermione nodded.

"I'm sure you had your reasons," she said kindly. Neville might have imagined it, but he thought Harry's eyes might have been a bit watery.

"Right," said Harry, "It's time I told you everything."

They sat in silence, their minds overwhelmed. Neville almost couldn't believe what Harry had said. Gods and monsters, camps and centaurs, blessings and sacrifices, it all seemed too fanciful to be true. But, it also made sense. He knew Harry wasn't normal from the moment he had met him, but he had made friends with him anyway. He couldn't believe what Harry had gone through, and was honored that he had shared this with them. He could see Harry's nervousness about revealing this to them, and he hurried to reassure him.

"I believe you," he said, "You can count on me."

"Me too," Hermione added, "We'll be with you every step of the way." Harry smiled then, the first genuine smile that Neville had seen.

"So, what are we going to do next?" Neville asked.

"I'm still not convinced that Dumbledore is on our side," Harry mused, "He wants something from me."

"What about the cloak he gave you?" Hermione asked.

"Hogwarts warned me about it," Harry said, holding it out, "Neville, you know the most about magical artifacts. What is it?" Neville took the cloak from Harry, then promptly gasped in amazement. Where the cloak draped over his hands, it was completely invisible.

"This is a power invisibility cloak," Neville exclaimed, inspecting it further, "Its completely clear, no blurring or opaqueness around the edges, and no outline either. This must be very old or very rare."

"I wonder how my father got it," Harry mused.

"Potter is an Ancient and Noble House," Hermione suggested, "It might have been a family heirloom."

"I wonder if there are other things I don't know about my family," Harry said sadly.

"What about the prophecy?" Neville asked, in an attempt to change the subject into something less melancholy.

"I'll bet the snake of death is Voldemort," said Hermione, "His symbol during the war was a skull with a snake as the tongue. It was called the Dark Mark."

"Then that means Voldemort will come back from the dead," Harry said, "Although that is hardly surprising."

"What I'm confused about is the lion, dragon, and eagle," Neville said.

"Well the eagle is the symbol for Ravenclaw and the lion is Gryffindor," Hermione answered, "But I don't know about the dragon."

"I suppose we'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it," Harry said determinedly.

-oO0o0Oo-

The rest of September passed without further incidents, although everyone remained on high alert. Professor Snape still refused to be civil with Harry and his friends but his hostility had been reined in a bit. Now that Dumbledore was not openly against them and the rest of the student body had gotten used to the situation, Harry, Neville, and Hermione had begun occasionally eating dinner in the Great Hall. October flew past and soon it was time for the Halloween feast.

Harry could not help but be amazed with the decorations in the Great Hall. Minerva and Professor Flitwick had clearly outdone themselves in providing a festive atmosphere. Jackolanters had replaced the floating candles, live bats fluttered between the rafters, and black cats prowled beneath the tables. Harry and his friends were thoroughly enjoying themselves when Professor Quirrell barged through the doors to the Great Hall.

"Troll in the Dungeons! Troll in the Dungeons! Thought you ought to know!" The professor exclaimed then collapsed in a dead faint. Chaos erupted immediately, but Harry, Hermione, and Neville had already charged out from the Hall.

"Hogwarts, take us to the Troll," Harry shouted, drawing his sword, "Hermione, what are we dealing with?"

"Most likely a Mountain Troll," Hermione said, running beside Neville, "They are 12 feet tall and their skin is very tough against spells but they aren't very bright."

"Right. Hermione, if it has a weapon, try and disarm it with a spell then help any hostages," Harry said, coming up with a strategy as they ran, "Neville, keep it distracted while I attack. There may be students in trouble so we need to move fast." Hogwarts let them out just outside a bathroom on the third floor. Harry could hear high pitched screams coming from within and drew his sword. Looking to either side of him, Neville and Hermione had drawn their wands and wore determined expressions. Exchanging nods, they charged through the ruined doorway. The troll had trapped two young Hufflepuff students in one of the stalls and was busy smashing everything in sight with a heavy wooden club as large as Harry.

"Wingardium leviosa!" Hermione shouted, levitating the club out of the trolls hand. Neville then quickly ran behind it and fired off a loud noise-making charm. Startled, the troll turned towards the sound, allowing Hermione to shepherd the frightened students to safety. Knowing he had to restrict the monster's movements, Harry slashed the back of the trolls knees, leaving it unable to walk. Enraged, the troll roared loudly, and as it turned toward Harry he launched himself upward. As the monster reached for him, he cut off both its hands and decapitated it in one smooth movement. With a bone jarring thud, the troll and its head fell to the floor, adding the rapidly spreading pool of blue blood to the already ruined bathroom. Harry turned to the two Hufflepuffs standing safely outside.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned. They nodded, wide eyed.

"Good," Harry smiled, and turned to Neville and Hermione, "Nice first battle."

"Thanks," said Neville, smiling back. Hermione had just opened her mouth to reply when the entirety of the Hogwarts staff appeared.

"What is the meaning of this, Potter?" Snape snapped.

"We just rescued two of our fellow students," Hermione said cooly, "Or did you not realize that was a troll behind us?" Harry struggled to conceal his smile. Snape made to answer her remark but Dumbledore placed a firm hand on the Professor's shoulder.

"These two students need to be checked in the hospital wing," Harry stated, glad that he didn't have to deal with another of Snape's outbursts, "They were trapped in one of these stalls when we arrived."

"Perhaps one of you could explain what happened from the beginning," McGonagall suggested. As Neville began to recount the past events, Harry wondered why the troll had not been in the dungeons as Professor Quirell had suggested. And how had the troll gotten in in the first place? He was beginning to think it was high time to seek out the centaurs for help.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

We should be able to progress more quickly now.

Thanks for your reviews!


	17. Trials and Training

The November morning air was frigid, and Hermione was glad that she had mastered the Warming Charm. The frosted grass crunched under their feet, and their breath misted in front of them like ghostly clouds as they made their way towards the Forbidden Forest. After the recent Troll attack, the trio had deemed it necessary for Harry to master his demigod powers as soon as possible. They had been lucky to escape their battle with nothing but a good tongue lashing from McGonagall about charging headlong into danger. Even in the morning sunlight, the forest floor remained shrouded in thick shadows, the trees' spindly branches reaching upwards like broken bones.

" _Tenebris Alnus,_ " Neville said, then in answer to the other's questioning looks, "Dark Alder. They create shadows when they have matured."

"They certainly add to the atmosphere," Hermione said, muttering a quick _Lumos_ and holding her wand high. Harry drew his sword.

"Ready?" he asked. Hermione and Neville nodded. Taking one last glance at the castle behind them, she plunged into the trees.

-oO0o0Oo-

The low fog seemed to grasp at Neville's ankles as they made their way through the dense trees. Although he was sure that neither of the trio had known where they were going, rising up through the thick mist stood the centaur's stronghold. Across a roaring river, a massive wall of wood and stone stretched from the forest floor to the canopy, looking entirely natural although clearly built by centaurs. Embedded in a section of the wall across a narrower section of the river was a formidable drawbridge guarded by centaur archers. Holding bows as large as Neville, and adorned by sturdy armor made of an animal hide that Neville couldn't identify, they looked every inch a warrior. The one on the left nocked an arrow and called out to the trio,

"Halt! Who goes there?" His long black hair was tied in ponytail, and from the waist down the speaker was a majestic black mustang.

"My name is Harry Potter, Champion of Hogwarts," Harry replied, drawing himself up to his full height, "I come seeking knowledge."

"Who accompanies you?" The centaur on the right asked. His hair was cropped short, and his pelt was a mottled brown.

"I am Neville Longbottom, and this Hermione Granger, Knights of Hogwarts," Neville replied, trying to sound as confident as Harry, "We have accompanied our friend on this journey." After a moment of quiet deliberation among themselves, the centaurs let down the drawbridge. However, before they could cross the bridge, the one on the left held up a hand.

"You must give us your weapons before you enter our kingdom," his fierce expression brooked no disagreement, "We will know if you are lying." After handing over their weapons, Harry looking particularly forlorn when handing over his sword, the one on the right pointed through the gates.

"Firenze awaits your presence on the opposite side of our village," he looked upon them sternly, "Do not wander."

-oO0o0Oo-

Harry was amazed at the centaur's village. The sheer size of it was staggering. As necessitated by their height, each of the houses were at least two stories tall and made of sturdy wood and stone. The streets were wide and lined with shops, filled with centaurs going about their daily tasks. At the end of the road was a small hill that seemed to serve as a training ground. Various young centaur students were engaged in practicing archery and swordplay with their teachers, and Harry couldn't help but be appreciative of their skill. At the top of the knoll stood a centaur with redish hair tied in a braid, staring upwards. As they approached, his brown eyes stared at them with a keen focus.

"Harry Potter," he said in a soft but commanding voice, "Your presence has been shouted through the heavens." Not knowing what centaur custom was, Harry bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"You are Firenze, I presume?" he asked. The centaur nodded, then turned to Neville and Hermione.

"Brave knights that you are, I have nothing to teach you," he said solemnly, "But I know that you need practice. Ask Venus if she would allow you to join her exercise." He pointed at a silver haired women centaur engaged in swordplay with two of her students. Following Harry's lead, Neville and Hermione bowed their heads and left. Firenze stared at him, his eyes seeming to pierce Harry's soul, yet Harry felt comforted by his gaze. At long last, the centaur sighed, and knelt down on the ground, gesturing for Harry to sit.

"Tell me when you first began to exhibit godly powers," the centaur requested. Harry knew that he could trust Firenze, and so recounted all he could remember: the hell hound, the fury, the lightning and the troll. By the time Harry had finished, the centaur was frowning deeply.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked, nervously.

"You have encountered many dangers for one so young," the centaur sighed, "And to overcome them all is very impressive. However, I believe we may find unlocking your potential to be more difficult than expected."

"I must know how to use all of my skills," Harry said forcefully, "Both for myself and my friends. The enemies I face will only be more perilous in the times to come, and I have to be ready for them." The centaur's eyes twinkled.

"I never said it was impossible," he said, "Only difficult. But you are certainly not lacking in determination. Relax. You will never be able to explore your inner strengths if you sit like you are balancing on a knife blade." Harry grinned ruefully, acknowledging that he was sitting with all muscles tensed. He took a deep breath and settled onto the cool grass. The centaur nodded.

"Much better," the centaur stated, "Now place your wand in front of you." Swallowing his objections, Harry replied. Giving up your weapons went contrary to every one of Chiron's trainings, it had been years since he had been fully unarmed. He even slept with his wand under his pillow and his sword nearby. He felt tempted to reach out and touch it, to reassure him that it was still there.

"We will first practice summoning your power without any help," the centaur said, "Once it becomes natural, you will be able to use your wand." Harry nodded. Picking a leaf up from the ground, the centaur held it out to Harry. Confused, Harry warily took it, but it seemed to be an ordinary leaf, red and dry, it crackled in his hand.

"Cup the leaf in your hands, and close your eyes," the centaur instructed, "Breathe deeply, feel the chill of the breeze on your body. See the wind, the air currents that surround you. Concentrate." Harry closed his eyes, and tried to feel what the centaur was describing. He heard the trees rustle as the fall wind rattled their frail leaves. A playful breeze grabbed a stray lock of hair and tossed it into his face, tickling his nose. He heard his and the centaur's soft intake of air and deep sighing exhales. The grass beneath him swayed in the wind, and his leaf threatened to be thrown skyward by the gentle breeze. A sudden strong gust flung the leaf past his reach, and, panicking, Harry opened his eyes and made a desperate grab at the leaf, but Firenze held up a hand to stop him.

"Let the wind take it where it will," he said, handing Harry another leaf, "Your job is only to observe and feel. There are plenty more leaves. Become the wind, and let yourself drift off in its currents." Surprised, and a little resentful, Harry closed his eyes and tried again.

-oO0o0Oo-

Hermione panted with exertion, her knees shaking. In front of her, Neville dropped to the ground, exhausted.

"That's enough," Venus said, trotting closer, "You have trained well." Hermione helped Neville to his feet, and they bowed in thanks. The sun was beginning to touch the tree tops, dousing the clearing in orange light. Hermione had never trained in hand to hand combat before, and even with the tape, her knuckles were raw and tender. Their teacher turned to gaze at the top of the hill.

"You had best retrieve your companion," the centaur said, "He seems in need of a break. Continue your practice while you are away and return soon." The pair nodded in agreement, then headed off to the top of the grassy crest. There, they found Firenze kneeling patiently, with Harry sitting on the grass, holding a leaf, eyes closed, red faced and clearly angry. At their approach, Harry opened his eyes, and the centaur stood.

"Was your training helpful?" the centaur asked, as Harry picked up his wand and stood.

"Indeed," Hermione answered, and Neville nodded, "I hope to return again soon."

"How was yours, Harry?" Neville asked. Harry grimaced, and crushed the leaf in his hand.

"He is having some trouble letting go," Firenze said, "Perhaps you can help him find peace before you return here." Harry looked like he wanted to protest, but he stayed silent.

"We will provide any support we can," said Hermione, "We're here for you, Harry. I know you can reach your full potential." At those words, Harry seemed to let go of some of his anger and nodded.

"We'll always be there," Neville said, "You don't have to face this alone." Firenze watched this all with a small smile on his face. The stars had predicted a terrible future for the boy, but Harry's friends seemed determined to support him no matter what. Perhaps some time with his friends would allow him to relax enough to access his powers. Harry had recovered enough of his composure and bowed to Firenze in thanks, the centaur nodding his head in acknowledgement.

"Continue your training when you return to Hogwarts," the centaur said, "Find the strength to give yourself up. I expect you back here in seven days time." Harry nodded, and trooped down the hill with his friends.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

Apologies for the very delayed update. I plan to continue this story, but it will most likely be at irregular intervals.

Thanks for your reviews!


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